Kick Off Your Boots and Stay a While
by Kaylightly
Summary: Overworked Angela Ziegler decides to take a well earned break from the trying life as doctor and plans a vacation to the American southwest, but when her horrible directional skills get her lost in the middle of nowhere New Mexico, she finds herself coming face to face with a dangerous gang, a handsome outlaw, and a whole lot of frustration. M for chapters to come, pun intended.
1. Good Girls are Made of

_Author's Note: Hey ya'll, we're coming up on summer and seeing as how I'm trying my best to fail my finals I thought I'd start a new story for you, and myself, of course. Jokes aside, I'm hoping I can keep this one running through the summer, and finish it too. Either way, hope you review and favorite and follow and everything else like that!  
_

 _Also, I live in the south now so y'all're gon' be hearin' Mr. McCree speak like a right southern gentleman. Or like a good ol' boy, 'cause why in the hell not?_

 **Chapter One: Good Girls Are Made Of…**

"Whiskey on ice." It sounded strange on her accented tongue, much too coarse and unrefined for a woman such as she to be ordering, but there it was all the same. Getting lost in the middle of nowhere New Mexico will do that to a girl.

"Comin' right on up for you, darlin'." Said the bartender, but not before shooting her a strange glance.

Could she blame him? There she was in some little southern saloon, dressed like she should be out shopping on the champs elysees, which she would really rather be doing, mind you. "Go see the Grand Canyon," they said. "It'll be fun," they said.

She downed a strong shot of liquor just as the bartender placed it in front of her. Angela just barely heard him whisper "oh boy" after witnessing that.

Whatever. She'd had a long day. And now she needed a strong drink. Particularly if she was supposed to be shacking up in this dump. Angela was beginning to wonder if it would really be that unsafe to sleep in the rental car…

Another swig.

She should be slow with her alcohol, she knew. She was very well aware of the side effects of drinking, and yes, she recognized that she was a slender woman, and of course, _of course_ she understood that because she hadn't drank much in the past the whiskey was going to hit her fast and hard.

She _knew_ all that, but sometimes a woman needs to relax.

So she tipped back her head and set the cold glass of whiskey to her mouth.

She might have pinched her nose too, to down it without flinching, but who needed to know that?

"You're workin' mighty fast on that whiskey there miss." Noted the bartender.

"Never you mind what I'm working on." She waved him off.

He started to wander off, but not before adding, "All I'm sayin' is that that tarantula juice will do you in real fast, you hear?"

She coughed dramatically.

"This _what_?!"

He chuckled. "Oh, I, er, should'a know you ain't from 'round here given that accent o' yours and-"

But the bartender never did finish his sentence. From the sound of it, someone had stepped into the dim, dusky, and heavily under-populated joint, and judging based on the expression of tarantula juice man, they were someone to be feared.

Angela turned her head curiously towards the door to come eye to eye with what she suspected were, in the western tongue, "outlaws."

There were only three, which surprised her. She figured three gang members, at least she had assumed they were gang members based on their scrappy dress and the bartender's reaction, were not that many to strike such fear into the man. Also, didn't they tend to travel in bigger packs than that?

"Howdy Tucker." Smiled a charming looking man in the front. He was likely somewhere in his twenties, had a scruffy beard, tanned skin, and a cigar hanging lazily out of his mouth. There was no denying the newcomer was the handsome sort, what with his tall stature, broad shoulders, and strong jaw, but it was his belt that caught Angela's attention the most. It read "BAMF", and she had absolutely no idea what that meant.

"G'day, Jesse." The bartender replied. "Always a pleasure to see you stoppin' by."

Though Angela rather suspected the bartender didn't quite feel that way.

The man named Jesse sidled up to the bar and took a seat beside her, flashing her a heart-stopping smile on his way. At least, it probably would have been heart-stopping if Angela weren't so confused - and curious - by the recent sequence of events.

"Howdy ma'am." He said to her kindly.

But the BAMF man turned back to the bartender before she could respond.

"Tucker," Started the cowboy, "My boys and I are lookin' for a couple a drinks right about now. Long day's ride, you know. That right by you?"

It was then that Angela noticed two more men had stepped menacingly through the door, and the other two that had been there previously had terribly grim expressions on.

"Of course, Jesse." The bartender smiled nervously. "You know my place is always welcome to you."

"Right." The cowboy casually took the cigar from his lips and smeared the butt on the bar. "You'd call yourself a loyal man, that right, Tucker? Always willin' to help out a friend in need?"

"On my mother's grave I would."

The man named Jesse chuckled low and deep and menacingly. Angela thought that was probably a good signal she should leave. Digging through her purse, she found her wallet and extracted an american ten dollar bill.

Placing it on the table, she said, "Thank you for your services. I'll be, uh, going now."

"Well now, that's a mighty foreign accent you got there." Noted the outlaw as he turned his attentions to her. His eyes drifted up and down her body, soaking in her tight jean shorts and silk blouse, as if he hadn't really noticed her before. "German, is it?"

"Swiss." She said politely, making to turn for the door.

But the cowboy didn't let her out of the conversation. "Swiss! My, you're a long way from home, little lady."

"Indeed." She noted. "So I really must be going, you see."

"Hmm." BAMF man considered it for a second. "That red mustang outside yours, darlin'?"

It was. He didn't need to know that.

She took a step backwards, but stumbled slightly from the oncoming effects of alcohol.

"Noticed it were a rental from the barcode on it and all." He remarked casually. "You alright there, miss? Seemin' awful tangle-footed."

"No, I'm not… Whatever it is you said." She scowled strangely at the man. What was even going on?

Angela vaguely noticed the bartender stepping away towards the back while the attention was off of him, and that's when things went bad.

The cowboy had his gun pointed at the bartender in an instant. How he drew it so fast, she had no idea how, but there it was, weapon ready, cocked, and aimed.

She gasped softly.

"Oh no you don't ol' Tucker!" He chuckled. "Ain't done with you yet. Been workin' behind our backs, ain't you? Deadlock Gang don't stand for that, no sir."

The Deadlock Gang?! This was far worse than she guessed.

"Look I'm just an innocent bystander, if you'll just kindly-"

"I ain't done with you yet either, missy." He flashed her another charming smile, although this time it rather scared her instead. "You'll find my man Hal's got a thumb buster pointed at your pretty little head, and we wouldn't want to harm an innocent Angelica, now would we?"

Angelica? Did he know who she was? And had just gotten the name wrong? What on earth?

"My name's not Angelica." She stated confusedly.

The cowboy sighed. "It's a turn of phrase, sweetheart. Means a young, unmarried woman. That is what y'are, ain't it?"

"I guess, but-"

"Jesse, just what in tarnation is taking you so damn long!" Hollered a new voice from the entry way. Angela turned her head to see the man, some weathered looking gang member definitely in his middle years, and one who had not done a very good job at keeping out of fights at that. He was riddled with scars.

"Well boss, I was just about to give ol' Tucker here the business when this young lady done stuck her nose in this mess." The cowboy explained. Curious how she didn't remember sticking her nose in anything, really.

The boss turned his eye to Angela. She stared at the ground.

"She the one with the mustang?"

"I reckon so."

"Right. She comes with." She what? They weren't actually planning on kidnapping her, were they? "You bring her back to the compound, I'll take care of Tucker."

Angela had her phone out faster than one can imagine, dialing her comrades at Overwatch for help.

"Damn it, woman, put that thing down before we shoot you!" Commanded the boss.

"I'm just an innocent bystander I don't see why I need be kidnapped!" She exclaimed, tears welling up in her eyes. "All I wanted to do was see the Grand Canyon but I got lost and now it's night time and I have to stop here and sleep in that stinky car overnight and I just wanted to have a drink and now you guys are kidnapping me, please, _please_ just let me be!"

"This yours?" The middle aged man pulled her caduceus blaster from his jacket.

Her mouth dropped open. They'd broken into the car?! She'd left it in her trunk on account of some concealed weapon law, and since Jack told her she wouldn't have needed it anyways, she'd thought it would have been safest in her suitcase. But, there she was, desperately in need of a pistol.

"As you can imagine, we tend to be awful suspicious of foreigners carrying around weapons in our neck of the woods."

"It's not what you think!"

"That's mighty fine, but like I said, right now, you're coming with us."

* * *

It was pretty clear from the way of things that Miss Swiss hadn't too much experience with being fuddled. Now that flush face of hers was awful cute, especially when coupled with her windblown blonde hair and oh-so-tight jean shorts, but the poor woman could hardly stand on her own. And Jesse reckoned her fashion cowboy boots hardly helped, either.

"No, no, no…" And her speech was starting to slur too. Just exactly how much had she drank? "You can't kidnap me! I'm Angela Ziegler!"

"Well, Miss Angela." Jesse smiled at her as he tugged her outside by the upper arm. "I rather do think we can kidnap you. 'Sides, we ain't bad men. We'll treat you right."

Her eyes went wide at that. Poor girl was scared shitless, and yet he just laughed.

"No you don't understand!" She exclaimed, tripping on the gravel outside. "This is an international offense!"

"What, you some high and mighty person up in Switzerland, are you?"

"As a matter of fact, I am!" She tried to hold her head high, but stumbling in the darkness didn't really help with that.

"Well then." He chuckled. "I reckon we ought to be able to rake in a large sum of money for you."

"What no!" She yelped. Damn, she was actually crying, her voice was starting to crack. Not exactly what Jesse had planned. "You'll spend years in prison for this! It's highly illegal."

"In case you hadn't noticed, little lady, our whole business is at least five kinds of illegal."

It was then that the woman decided she'd give up walking altogether. She flopped dramatically on the ground, gathering her knees in her arms.

"Please don't murder me! Or rape me… Or torture me…" She sobbed gently.

Jesse sighed, then crouched down beside her. "We'll treat you right, Miss Angela. Ain't gonna do none of that to you, now get on up and let's go."

"I don't want to." She cried.

The cowboy rolled his eyes. Figures that she'd play difficult, so he did what he had to.

Leaning forward a touch, Jesse scooped the woman into his arms and damn right carried her over to the bikes.

Much to his surprise, she didn't protest. Just cried, mostly.

"Surprised you ain't puttin' up a fit." He muttered as he sat her down straddled across the motorcycle.

"What you, you," She choked on her tears a bit before continuing. "You think I'd try and run away? Try my hand at this god forsaken desert? When you can put a gun to my head?"

Hopping on the bike behind her, Jesse replied, "Well, I always just figured women don't much like being kidnapped."

"We don't!" She exclaimed.

Leaning forward, he pressed his chest flat against her back and revved the engine.

"Then why don't you put up a damn protest?" He asked again.

"It's useless." She cried, clearly exhausted and overwhelmed.

Now, Jesse knew it was awful improper to be getting a rise out of being so close to a pretty woman who he happened to be kidnapping, damn improper indeed. But did that stop him from feeling a twinge of guilty pleasure in his gut? It sure as hell did not.

If Miss Swiss minded, though, she didn't say much. The soft sound of her crying was about all he heard until it was drowned out by the harsh rumbling tone of his bike. They were on the road within seconds. She stayed silent through the whole trip too. Some five minutes after they departed, Jesse reckoned her silence was more out of sleep than anything, if the slow rising and falling of her back against him was to be trusted.

They chugged up to the warehouse in the suburbs of Santa Fe some three hours later. The Swiss lady was still out cold, and poor Jesse was feeling rather beat himself.

Popping the kickstand, he dismounted, and nudged the blonde riding with him in the process.

"Up and at 'em, Miss Swiss." He said to her.

But she just groaned in reply, falling backwards slowly, as if she was trying to settle her back on the bike and return to sleep. As it happened, that didn't work out too well for her.

She tried to adjust to make herself comfortable, but in her half-asleep stupor she started to roll off the bike instead, flailing as she fell towards the ground. Luckily enough for her, Jesse was there to save the day. He caught her by her waist as she fell and made to hoist her up so that she could stand. Turns out, Miss Swiss had something different in mind.

As he wrapped his arms around her midsection to support her, she snaked her arms around his neck, pulling herself towards his body. Then, most surprising of all, instead of trying to stand, she coiled her legs around his hips and clung to him like some kind of monkey.

Well, Jesse rather tried to think of her as a monkey then, seeing as how other interpretations would have her pressed up against the wall and him with his pants around his ankles. Not that he would have minded, but Jesse was a gentleman, damn it, and he wasn't in the practice of taking advantage of drunk women, even when he really wanted to.

And god _damn_ did he want to.

Just thinking of her flush with the wall, light blonde hair tousled and mouth open breathing out a steady stream of small gasps from _his_ ministrations, well, it made him ache something mighty furious.

Best to get off of that line out thought while he could. Jesse McCree weren't no rapist or molester of innocent women. So he set his eyes to the paved road in front of him, put one foot in front of the other, and began walking on over to the warehouse. But when Miss Swiss cradled her nose in the crook of his neck, her slightly parted lips tickling along his skin, it took about all the fucking willpower Jesse had in him not to set her against the bike right then and there and get down to business. He just let out a soft, strangled groan instead.

"Angela." He used the name she'd given to him back in the bar to try and rouse her from her drunken stupor. But just why in the hell was he trying to do that? To get a beautiful foreign woman _off_ of him? Damn he considered himself a certified fool sometimes.

She just mumbled incoherently in reply, moving her lips teasingly along his skin, and Jesse decided he'd better not try anything else.

Carrying the woman proved to have its own set of difficulties as well. She had not latched on to him in a particularly secure manner, and slowly began to slide town his torso. At first, Jesse had it in mind to just let her fall and see her ass flop on the ground after she'd tested him like that, but then that area between her legs, you know which, slid at an agonizing speed right over his crotch and - fuck did she just moan?

Her tongue flicked against his skin. Well, at least, Jesse was pretty fucking sure it was her tongue, what else would it have been? And she sucked in a small sip of breath, softly, as if she knew _exactly_ what was going on and fuck Jesse if that didn't turn him on like who knows what.

So obviously he had to readjust.

A small part of him, no, actually, a really fucking large part of him hated himself for hooking his arm below her rear side and hoisting her back up (it maintained that he should have at least set both of his hands to her ass, but Jesse knew that was far too perilous), his spare arm coming around her back and setting her to him securely, just so that he could keep hold of the last bit of sanity he had.

And fortunately enough for him Miss Swiss decided not to torment him much more, allowing him to get up the steps without too much trouble and set her down on a spare bed easily. She even detached herself from him without protest, which kind of disappointed him.

The woman rolled around on the bed as if she were enjoying its comfort, although Jesse knew very well that had to be one of the worst mattresses in the compound. Taking that as his queue to leave, Jesse turned towards the doorway, wondering exactly how he was going to rid himself of the raging erection he had recently acquired.

But damn him if he thought he was going to get away that easily. A small, soft hand caught his wrist and a delicate, sleepy voice said, "Please stay."

Oh and he knew it was a mistake, he knew. There was nothing good that could come from sleeping with your kidnappees, even if you don't fuck them, _especially_ if you don't fuck them, but damn him, his composure was already worn too thin.

So, instead, he replied with a simple, "Ok," tore off his jacket and boots, and hopped into bed beside her.

Almost immediately, she rolled towards him and cradled into his chest, her head lying gently on his pectoral with her soft blonde hair scattered in disarray.

He sighed. It was going to be a long night. But, unfortunately for Jesse, it was going to be a hell of a lot longer than he thought.

The Swiss woman let loose a content breath as she settled into his body, clearly feeling comforted and at ease. Then, just when Jesse though he might, just might, be able to find some way to fall asleep, she said to him, in a voice that was equally endearing as it was sexy, four words that never left his mind.

"I love you, Jack."


	2. Be Sure to Taste Your Words

_Author's Note: A couple things y'all._

 _1\. Sorry I took a while! Had finals (went alright, didn't fail nothing, fortunately enough), and then I caught the flu! In 90 degree weather! Fuck that shit man. Anyways, I'm better, but I also regret that I have to say chapter three will also take a little while to post, I'm going on vacation for the next week. I wanted to get this out to you all before that though._

 _2\. I also forgot to mention last time what the name of the chapter was about. It comes from a saying "Good girls are made of sugar and spice, cowgirls are made of whiskey on ice." Today's chapter comes from the saying "Be sure to taste your words before you spit them out"._

 _3\. Sometimes I get my buddy to proofread my stuff, but for the most part I don't have anyone to check for spelling errors or weird sentence errors. Sorry if that kind of interrupts the flow sometimes, I try my best to catch them, but after having read it over and over and over, I become blind to these mistakes. Hopefully you can bear with me and maybe just get a chuckle out of it or something. (Reading them aloud they sound really funny.)_

 _And so, without further ado..._

 **Chapter Two: Be Sure to Taste Your Words**

Oh, how she should have known he'd be there to save her. Jack was the hero of all of her stories, why should this be any different? Stranded in the middle of nowhere, captured by a rogue, the dashing hero of her dreams comes to the rescue. What a man. She'd really hit the ball out of the park with him, as the saying went.

Morning light bathed over her aching eyes, which she kept shut on account of her raging hangover, while she stroked the chest of her boyfriend lovingly. She trailed her hand along the collar of his shirt, then down through the center of his abdomen, straight to the hem which she played with teasingly. Angela always felt a little self-conscious, acting like that. Seduction didn't come to the woman naturally, but he'd _saved_ her, and in Angela's mind there was little more romantic than that.

"I'm so glad you came to rescue me, Jack." She cooed in a tone that was meant to be at least a little amorous.

"I'm not-" Well now _that_ wasn't the voice she was expecting.

Bolting up straight, reality washed over her like a cold bucket of water. She squinted, bright sunshine etching pain into her eyes, trying to make out the identity of the man she was lying in bed with.

Upon realizing that said man was _not_ in fact Jack Morrison, commander of Overwatch and also her really, really handsome boyfriend, but rather the roguish cowboy who had _kidnapped_ her, she screamed. Loudly. And scrambled out of bed. With a pillow, for self-defense, of course.

"WHOAREYOUANDWHATAREYOUDOINGINBEDWITHME?" She blurted out frantically.

But the cowboy just lazily rubbed at his eyeballs, propping himself up with one elbow.

"Wanna try that one again, darlin'? Didn't quite catch it the first time." He chuckled. What, he thought this was a laughing matter? The asshole!  
"Who are you…" She took a very, very deep breath. "And what are you doing in bed with me?"

"Well, I'm Jesse McCree." He smiled charmingly at her. She considered throwing the pillow at him for his antics, but she rather found it comfortable pressed against her chest. Like a barrier, of sorts. "And I was in bed with you because you asked me to be in bed with you."

"I did no such thing!" She huffed scathingly. Men could be such pigs about these things. All you had to do was get a little flirtatious on their chest when you thought they were _a different damn man_ and all of a sudden their egos couldn't even fit in the room. She flushed bright red in a balanced mixture of embarrassment and anger.

"As a matter of fact, darlin', you did." His lopsided grin was quite infuriating, if you asked Angela. The fact that she also found it the tiniest bit sexy added fuel to the already raging fire. "Though I reckon you were a wee bit tipsy at the time."

It was then that things started to come back to her. She did remember being carried by a strong, handsome man, who at the time she believed to be Jack, which is why she thought him strong and handsome, mind you. Angela supposed she did wonder at the time why Jack had dyed his hair brown and had intended asking him about it later, but really, he was rescuing her so she could excuse a little hair dye. At least, she thought he was rescuing her. Now, under the sober light of day she realized just how damn stupid she'd been.

Well that'll teach a girl not to get drunk ever, ever again.

"So, you, knowing I was intoxicated, still hopped in bed with me?!" She squealed. "What kind of monster are you?!"  
"I didn't touch you none!" He raised his hands in self defense. "Besides, had you been in my shoes, that kind of request you made weren't one that could be turned down."

Was it her, or was the guy blushing a bit? Moreover, _why_ was he blushing?

"And just exactly what do you mean by _that_?" She hissed.

"You know what, nevermind what I just said." He huffed. "You're right, I'm sorry. Won't do it again, on my word."

He seemed honest enough, and so she relaxed visibly. Good to know he could be reasoned with.

"Unless you want me to." He added with a wink.

Angela did throw the pillow at him then.

"You scoundrel! You no-good-"

"Am I interrupting?" The scary looking gang leader from the previous night stuck his head into the room.

"No!" Turning to face the newcomer, she exhaled in a soft and yet infuriated tone. "I was just in the process of kicking him out!"

"Jesse that bad, is he?" The gang leader chuckled. "Always reckoned pretty boys never were that good in the sack."

Angela gasped dramatically.

"We did no such thing!" Her voice barely above a whisper.

"Oh hush now darlin' I won't tell nobody if you're so damn embarrassed." The older man laughed.

"We didn't do it!" She exclaimed. Like she really believed him not to try and dangle that in front of her commander while he ransomed her away. These were outlaws she was dealing with!  
The gang leader raised an eyebrow to that. "Well now Jesse, you must've really fucked up one way or the other. Can't tell which, though."

It was only then that she noticed the cowboy's proximity. He was behind her, hands teasing at the hem of her shirt like she'd done to him just moments earlier, mouth pressing into the shell of her ear.

"Oh, come on now boss." A low, dark chuckle emanated from his lips and rippled down through her body. "She's just a little shy is all."

"Right." At least the boss seemed rather unconvinced, which was nice since she didn't have to interject herself in the conversation to correct anyone again.

And that was really quite lucky for her too on account of the fact that a cowboy had just snuck up behind her and was testing her faithfulness to Jack (because, she had to admit, the way he traced his fingers around the top of her shorts, hooked his thumbs in her belt loops, and tugged at the fabric experimentally messed with her brain in a way she couldn't quite comprehend) basically rendered her speechless.

"Well, whatever the case Jesse we need you down in the meeting room." The boss raised an eyebrow at him. "Pronto, you hear me?"

"Yes sir." The cowboy replied diligently, detaching himself from Angela, which brought upon conflicting feelings of relief and disappointment for the medic. She really rather tried to ignore the latter of the two, but before she could find it in herself to reconcile the difference between the twinge of guilt in her heart and the shock of pleasure in her gut, the two outlaws had already left, leaving her alone in a strange room in a stranger country with nothing but time to dwell on her increasingly disconcerting thoughts.

* * *

"I didn't sign up for the torture innocent women." Jesse crossed his arms in front of him firmly.

"No you signed up to be part of the biggest, baddest gang in town and this is what we do, McCree." Growled Fourfingers. Jesse never had liked him.

"You ain't the boss." He stood firm. Couldn't be lenient with fellas like him, they'd walk all over you if you let 'em.

Fourfingers shot a questioning eyebrow at Lucky Sam, but the boss just stroked his chin thoughtfully.

"What you thinkin', McCree? If we don't torture her?" Lucky Sam wanted to know.

"Ransom her off for the payload, I say." He twisted the cigar in his mouth thoughtfully. Seemed like a bright idea to him, given the situation and all. According to the techies, the organization known as Overwatch was supposed to be escorting a handful of highly dangerous weapons along Route 66, though this wasn't news to anyone in the gang. They already had a plan set and ready for acquiring the goods, but then one Angela Ziegler, highly coveted doctor to Overwatch, just so happened to step into their lair, presenting Deadlock Gang with the question of just how exactly they could use that little turn of events in their favor.

"Could just keep her, get information out of her, get the payload ourselves and _then_ ransom her back for money." Fourfingers protested.

"Liable to lose more men than we need to with that plan." Jesse shot back.

"What, you scared of a little gunfire, McCree? One night with a pretty lady and your skin turns thinner than paper."

"Don't make me force those words back down your throat."

"I'd like to see you try."

"Boys!" Hollered the boss. "Enough of that nonsense. No need to be measuring cocks, we're all gentlemen here."

The cowboy crossed his arms, leaning back against a nearby table, still glaring at Fourfingers. Never did trust that man. Took a little too much pleasure in watching men bleed, if you asked him.

"Jesse you've got an easy plan on you but Fourfinger's got a more lucrative one. Seein' as how we're in the business of money making, I'm gon' have to side with him." Lucky Sam stated diplomatically.

The boss was rather logical about how he approached things, and while Jesse did respect that well enough, he rather thought logic should be put aside when torturing women was in question. But Jesse reckoned Lucky Sam had a few screws loose when it came to morals, and Fourfingers didn't even have morals to begin with. Arguing with unethical men was what he got for kicking it with the Deadlock Gang.

"Ain't no way I can convince you?" Jesse wondered.

"I don't think so." Lucky Sam shrugged. "Exchanging her for the payload is also a mighty fine way to get us set up."

"If we're careful about it, we'll be fine. We hold the power here, don't you reckon?" He countered.

"Jesse, I don't know why you give such a damn 'bout that woman but you ain't likely to convince me on this one. Sure as hell ain't gonna guilt me into it neither."

He sighed. Jesse really didn't want to play his ace, but he figured it was his only choice right about then.

"You owe me one."

"Really?" Howled Fourfingers, cackling madly. "You're gonna waste your IOU on a little Swiss bitch? She fuck you that good, huh?"

He groaned inwardly. Wasting his IOU on her and she didn't _even_ fuck him. But he had to, and he knew it. Fourfinger's method of torture might involve some of the classic types, but Jesse was damn sure the Swiss woman was liable to be raped by the bastard. Thinking of her crying, wailing, dying from that sort of treatment damn near tore a hole in his heart.

"Fourfinger's got a point, Jesse." Lucky Sam stated evenly. "You're right, I do owe you one, but I dare say it's foolish burn it on this girl."

"I can't stand by torture." He tried to stare a hole into the ground. Jesse's IOU was precious, and he knew it. The Deadlock Gang wasn't known for being the honorable sort, but the one thing they did respect were lives saved. The cowboy had saved his boss's life exactly once, which was a rare thing indeed considering Lucky Sam was just as talented as he was fortunate, and had been granted a very, very valuable IOU from the big boss in town. He'd give Jesse just about anything he wanted, within reason, and now he was using this mighty powerful bit of leverage to get a woman he just barely met out of trouble. Why was he cursed with sensible morals?

"You sure about this?" The boss asked a second time.

"I am." Jesse looked up, locking eyes with the boss to show him just exactly how damn sure he was.

"Right, well, bring her on down here then. We'll get our techies to phone up the commander, see if we can't work out a bargain."

* * *

Desert heat was what Angela had chalked everything up to. It was damn hot outside, damn hot in the room, and damn hot under her skin, which is why she blushed so much. And acted like a cat in heat.

She glared out the east-facing window at the morning New Mexico sun, or, at least, she thought it was the New Mexico sun. It could have been a sun anywhere in the southwest really, like an Arizona sun, or a Nevada sun. Truth be told, Angela wasn't really sure. She'd slept the entire ride over to the compound on account of having had one, _one_ , glass of whiskey (and she was pretty sure it was whiskey and not tarantula juice like the bartender had said, since there really wasn't anything intoxicating about spiders), and even if she had been sober, her sense of direction was pitiful to begin with (it was how she'd ended up in this mess, after all), so there was really no telling where she was.

She might as well be in hell.

"Well Miss Angela, would you might accompanying me down to a meeting room real quick?" A now regrettably familiar voice wafted in from the doorway, and as she turned to look at the man, she saw one cowboy's head poking in through a crack in the door. He'd opened it so quietly too, which quite surprised her. He didn't really seem like the quiet kind of man.

"Do I have a choice?" She grumbled.

"Not really, but I figure it's nicer to ask." He smiled at her, though she decidedly did not smile back. Even if his smile summoned butterflies in her stomach. Damn southwestern heat.

"Very well, yes, Mr. Cowboy, I would be delighted to accompany you." She retorted sarcastically.

"The name's Jesse, darlin'." He replied as she followed him out into the hallway of what she suspected was a warehouse, if the industrial metal walls were any indication.

"My apologies, _Jesse._ " She caught his dark brown eyes in a stare, and refused to let him go.

"Now that's much better." He chuckled. And it was so deep, she didn't know how. Angela had always thought Jack had a deep voice and while she suspected the commander's was a touch lower than Jesse's, the cowboy's was smooth and rich, like a Syrah red wine. The doctor never was much of a drinker, especially not of hard liquors, but she knew how to enjoy a classy glass of wine now and then.

Casting her her eyes away, she refused to continue the conversation. This man was far too flirtatious and, dare she admit it, tempting. He was exactly the sort of man who made an awful boyfriend, always on the prowl. It was best she remember that before her fancies flew away from her.

The duo descended down a metal staircase, through some open room with tons of crates, down another long hallway, and into a dimly lit room filled with computers and screens. Three other men stood inside, one of which she recognized to be the "boss".

"Alright, Trevor, you can phone him up now. Jesse, set the woman in front of the camera." The boss ordered.

"Camera?" She asked absently.

"Gon' set up a ransom for you, sweetheart." The cowboy smirked. "Need your peers back at Overwatch to know you're alive, don't we?"

So they'd figured it out, huh? It wasn't surprising, she'd given her name back in the bar, and they'd trashed her car as well. There was all sorts of identification in her suitcase, she was sure.

Jesse directed her over to a chair pointed at a camera, which she sat in without struggle. It was useless to do so, in her mind.

The boss walked over to stand in front of the camera as well, which rather surprised her.

"You're just going to let them see you like that?" She wondered aloud.

"Oh you already damn well know who I am." He grumbled.

She didn't, that was for certain, but it wasn't like Angela to pay attention to all the ins and outs of who they were or weren't targeting. She mostly just tried to stop the violence. So, she supposed it was possible that Jack and Gabriel already had an ID on the man, especially considering they were planning some sort of sting mission to catch some big baddie in the Deadlock Gang.

A few seconds later, without warning, Jack's face appeared on a big screen in front of her.

"Jack!" She exclaimed dramatically.

"Angela, what's going on?" He asked in that gruff tone of his.

"Well, now, Morrison, good seeing you again, ain't it?" Cackled the boss.

"Lucky Sam, I should have known." Jack crossed his arms and glared at the outlaw.

"We got your medic, in case you hadn't noticed, but we're reasonable men, we are."

"Oh?" Jack raised an eyebrow, but did not seem very happy with the situation. Well, obviously. His girlfriend was being held hostage!

"We're willing to offer you a trade you see." Now, Angela couldn't see the boss, but she suspected he was smirking right about then. "We'll trade you the woman for that pack of weapons you'll be escorting in a few days time. Yes, Morrison, we know all about those."

Angela tried hard not to smirk herself. What an idiot, he really had no idea, did he? She had to hand it to Gabriel and Jack, they'd done a good job setting this up. Lucky Sam, as his name appeared to be, was clueless that the whole weapon escort thing was rigged to get him captured.

"You really think I'm going to buy into that?" Jack grumbled. "Knowing your gang, you won't hold up your half of the bargain."

"Oh come on now, Morrison? Do we really seem that bad to you?" Lucky Sam laughed at his own joke. "Well, to make things right, we'll do it your way, as much as we see fit. I tell you right now, we had a tough debate on whether or not we should even ransom Miss Swiss right here."

"What do you mean?" Jack echoed Angela's thoughts exactly.

"Well, I was all for torturing her and seeing what the woman knows, but our man Jesse's sweet on your medic, and he convinced me to at least try to bargain with you first."

Jack frowned.

"Nothing happened, Jack!" She squealed. "He's just a perverted cowboy is all."

"That's not the way I heard it happened, is it, Jesse?"

The cowboy chimed in. "Ain't the way it happened at all. But I suppose Miss Swiss don't want her boyfriend knowing she slept with another man."

She gasped. Loudly. While it wasn't _technically_ false, the implication was definitely wrong.

"Don't listen to them-"

"Oh hoh, boyfriend, eh?" Lucky Sam laughed at that. "Well that I did not know." Wait, how _did_ the cowboy find that out? "Sure as hell got to accept our bargain now, don't you? Elsewise your girl will never forgive you."

"I can't risk put at risk all of the lives you would destroy if you got your hands on those weapons, even if it was for Angela." He stated firmly.

But he was just putting on an act, wasn't he? I mean, she knew there _was_ an actual payload of weapons they had to deliver, that was true, but couldn't they still capture Lucky Sam in an exchange? If they played it carefully, they could save her _and_ keep hold of the payload. She supposed it was a little bit riskier than the plan they already had, but her life was at stake, and Overwatch was a loyal organization, damn it! Surely they could pull it off somehow. Jack was just playing hard to get, right? Make it so they had to do things by his terms, right?

"Well now that's mighty cold of you. You sure you wanna turn this offer down, Morrison? Might have to torture your girl after all."

"Angela doesn't know anything." Jack glared at Lucky Sam. "She's just a medic. We don't keep her in the loop. The sort of information you're looking for is on a need-to-know basis, and she doesn't need to know."

Ok that was a flat out lie, but she wasn't about to say so.

"Still don't sound to me like you're accepting our bargain, Morrison. I'll give you one last shot at this, do you agree to our ransom demands, Angela Ziegler for the weapons?"

Her heart was pounding faster than it had in her entire life. Jack had to try and save her, he had to. He'd told her he loved her, hadn't he? It'd scared the piss out of her at the time - was she ready to love him back, was she ready to step further into the relationship - but damn it he loved her. He had to saver her.

"No, I do not accept your terms." His voice was cold as ice.

She could hardly breathe. Had he just said no? No he would _not_ rescue her? What had happened to her knight in shining armor? Her boyfriend, her love? Well, hell, did she even love him anymore, when he wouldn't come to her rescue? When she really, _really_ needed him to? They were going to torture her. _Torture_ her. She was likely to be _raped_ , and Jack was _not_ going to rescue her? And, just to add to the experience, Angela was going to have to face the humiliation of crying in front of a pack of bandits because there was no way on earth she could keep the tears back.

"I'm sorry, Ange." She must have looked pathetic. How dare he pity her? How _dare_ he!

"Fuck off." She choked out in between loud sobs.

"Oof, well I dare say that relationship has ended." Lucky Sam chuckled. "Better find yourself a new woman, Morrison, because she sure as hell ain't comin' back to you."

And with that, the screen clicked black and Jack faded from her vision. Good. She didn't want to see him ever again.

"Nice touch there, Trevor." The boss chuckled. "Excellent timing. Always did know when to end a conversation, didn't you?"

Angela noticed a scrawny guy near a computer shrug out of the corner of her teary eye. "I've a talent for it."

"I'll say."

The room was quiet for a few seconds following that. Quiet with the exception of Angela crying.

"So I guess we do get to torture her now." A dark, rough voice said in the back. Must have been the other guy in the room. She didn't really care, though. What Jack said had ripped her heart from her chest. They could kill her and she'd probably be happier.

"Well hold on now." Jesse piped up. "I didn't spend my IOU just to have her tortured in the end."

The fourth man snorted. "You'll get your fucking IOU back, McCree."

"He's right, Jesse." Said Lucky Sam. "I ain't an unfair man, you can have it back."

"I don't want it back." He said firmly. "Keep it, and don't torture her."

Why was he fighting for her? Was she really that pathetic? She tucked her head between her knees in shame.

The boss sighed. "God damn but you are a fool sometimes, Jesse. Fine, we won't torture her. Consider your IOU cashed in."

"That's all I was asking for." Jesse replied.

"Well, since you paid for her life, how about you take care of her then?" The dark voice suggested. "I don't wanna listen to her fucking sob anymore."

"Put a sock in it, Fourfingers." Jesse shot back. "She just got turned on by her boyfriend, can't you have some sympathy for that?"

"No, I don't give a fuck."

A gentle hand patted her on the back.

"Can you stand, sweetheart? Best we get you on out of here, don't you think?"

"God damn you're fucking whipped!"

"Hush Fourfingers." Ordered the boss. "Just because your heart is made of stone don't mean everybody else's is. Leave 'im be."

Angela shook her head in response to the cowboy.

"Well I bet you could stand if you tried hard enough." Jesse argued.

But she just shook her head again, hoping he'd get the message that she just didn't want to.

"Alrighty then."

Angela had hoped that meant he'd just leave her be, but soon realized that was not the case at all. Rather, the cowboy had decided the best course of action was to hook one arm under her knees and wrap the other around her back, hoisting her against his chest, and carry her out of the room. For all that Angela hated being manhandled by gang members and touched by men she hardly knew, there was no denying that his warm touch was safe and soothing in her current state. Deciding that she didn't much care about her image, or rather that it was far too late to care, she tucked her head into his chest and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, enjoying the comfort he provided for her. Then, for the second time in under twenty four hours, Jesse McCree carried one exhausted Angela Ziegler through the warehouse and up to the bedroom where she hoped she might be able to get some rest.


	3. If You Climb in the Saddle

_Author's Note: Hey y'all! Sorry I took so long (again) but good news! This chapter is like twice as long as the rest, so it's (hopefully) worth the wait._

 _Also, I see there have been some issues posting anonymous reviews? I'm not exactly sure why that is, perhaps I haven't been approving them on time or something... I don't check super often so that might be why._

 _That said, go ahead and enjoy "If You Climb in the Saddle, Be Ready for the Ride"..._

 **Chapter Three: If You Climb in the Saddle**

Two days. That's how long Angela stayed cooped up in some small room in a warehouse, with nothing but a bed and a window to look out of, with the hot southwestern sun glaring at her day in and day out. Two days was how long she had to wait for the Deadlock gang to make their move, two days was the amount of time between her capture and the sting mission.

Two days was how long she cried for.

On the second day of what Angela Ziegler considered must have been hell, she was finally payed a visit by something other than poorly made beans and rice and a glass of water.

Lucky Sam, or, at least, Angela was pretty sure he was called Lucky Sam, opened the door, not bothering to knock or holler in the least. He raised an eyebrow at her, curled on the hard mattress with her back to the sun and her red eyes glaring up at the boss.

"Angela I'm willing to bargain for your release." He stated simply.

She wasn't very intrigued. What would release do for her, anyways? She'd just go back home and cry there. Maybe the bed would be softer, but she'd have to maker her own food and that just sounded like work. She was so exhausted.

After a few moments of silence, Lucky Sam continued. "Here's the deal. You keep us patched up and healthy on our upcoming raid and we'll let you run on back to Overwatch, or what's left of 'em, anyways."

Angela raised an eyebrow.

"Couldn't bargain you for much money." The boss explained. "Should have mentioned your family was poor and your organization is full o' heartless bastards. They say they can't risk puttin' money in our hands. If I didn't know any better I'd think they just didn't like you."

She groaned. Was it pettiness? Was that it, Jack?

"What you say, Angela?"

"Fine." She choked out past the lump in her throat. Amazing how after two days she still had tears to shed.

"Well, that was easy." The boss shrugged. "I suppose you don't have much of a reason to be loyal to Overwatch anymore, do you?"  
A tear trickled down her cheek. How could they do this to her? It was only because of one lustful cowboy that she even remained untouched. But they didn't know that! And still they couldn't even be bothered to pay for her release…

They? No… That was unfair. Jack. _Jack_ couldn't be bothered.

"Fine, whatever. Clearly you're not in a talkin' mood. But you need to get up and at 'em, darlin'. The cavalry is waiting."

* * *

Squished between two men in the back of a van was not exactly what Angela had in mind when she had envisioned cavalry. While she doubted actual horses would be in play, she had expected some sort of motorcycle brigade, smoky exhaust and all. In fact, she was a little disappointed to be in a truck, seeing as how the Deadlock Gang was fairly well known for their love of bikes. Back at headquarters, she and Jack used to liken them to the bad guys in an oldie but goodie movie by the name of _Mad Max: Fury Road_ , rebels with a side of punk rock doped up on some dangerous concoction of drugs. It was only now that she could see that was far from the truth.

"Angela, these two fine gentlemen next to you are Whitaker and Forest." Lucky Sam said from the comfort in the front seat. "They sure as hell ain't as pretty as your man McCree, but they're nice men all the same."

She couldn't hold back the snort that followed his comment.

"What you don't think we can be nice men?" One of the ruffians next to her questioned. He was a big one, at the very least two hundred pounds, and muscular to boot. Upon noticing that, Angela suddenly found the floor to be an excellent thing to stare at.

"Well, now, Whitaker, she don't know us very well now do she?" The boss chimed in. "Can't very well make an accurate judgement I'd say."

Whitaker grunted in response.

"We are good people now, Miss Angela." He continued. "Sure we work on the other side of the law, but the government doesn't always do what's best. Sometimes you gotta make things right for yourself."  
"Oh and kidnapping innocent women is making things right?" She countered. It escaped her mouth before she could reconsider.

"Still mad about that, are you?" He chuckled. "If anything you should be thanking us for exposing a glaring flaw in your man."

"He's just doing what he thinks is right." She muttered softly. Why she felt the need to defend Jack, she didn't know. Was it out of pride? Self preservation? Did she want to assert she had good taste in men, a successful relationship? Either way, it lacked serious conviction and the statement mostly came out as bitter.

"I'm sure." Lucky Sam replied. "Takes his job too seriously, that one."

"He's been through a lot." Again with the defending! She'd probably be happier if she just shut up.

"We all have, darlin'. All I'm sayin' is that if my wife were kidnapped I'd blow up half the damn nation to rescue her."

"You're married?!" She exclaimed.

"What, this comes as a surprise to you?" Lucky Sam chuckled. "Of course I'm married! I'm a lover boy indeed."

She cringed at the thought. Who would marry a gang boss? Who would do that? And who calls themselves a lover boy?

"Are a lot of the gang members married?" She asked tentatively. Angela wasn't entirely sure she wanted to know the answer. It seemed to humanize them too much.

"Well, I reckon we're a less married lot than normal but I daresay there are a fair number with wives or husbands."

This was what made working for Overwatch hard. Destroying Omnics was one thing, even if she thought they should have more rights, some of those robots were loose cannons. The extreme ones were downright evil, if you asked her, which was so different from people. Humans were complex and strange and the ones that commit truly atrocious acts are usually some of the most disturbed individuals out there. No human was completely evil.

But that's what made it difficult for her to work for Overwatch. How could she go into battle and help people like Jack _kill_ people like Lucky Sam? She certainly didn't like Lucky Sam that much and perhaps the world would be better off without him and the Deadlock Gang, but it just wasn't that simple. Lucky Sam had a wife. And children, in all likelihood. What soldiers often saw as a blight on the country Angela always saw as a person, with real problems, and real emotions, and real family members who will cry for hours at their funeral.

It was beyond her how anyone could kill another human being.

"You lookin' to marry into the clan, are you, Angela?" The gang boss taunted.

She frowned. "What would give you that impression?"

"Well all this curiosity must come from somewhere."

"Can't I just be curious? Not very many people get to see the inner workings of a gang, you know. For the most part we think you're anti-establishment high school dropouts high on a mysterious concoction of drugs."

"Well now that's just false propaganda!" Lucky Sam exclaimed. "And of course you can't be curious, a woman always has her motives."

She snorted at that. It figures he'd be the sexist type.

"I bet this has everything to do with our Jesse."

"Look, I will say this once and for all." She glared at him through the rearview mirror. "I do not have a thing for your cowboy."

"He's a cute one, that Jesse, I don't blame you for fallin' for him." Lucky Sam chuckled as if he hadn't even heard her declaration. "Too bad he ain't here with us."

Oh he was baiting her and she knew it. Crossing her arms, Angela refused to give in.

"Ain't you curious where he done run off to?"

"No."

"Not in the least?"

"Absolutely not."

"You sure? The man only saved your life twice. You could at least show some concern for

him."

Angela rolled her eyes. "Fine, what's he up to?"

"Now what makes you think I'm gon tell you somethin' like that, huh?" He laughed. "That's

sensitive information, Miss Angela! Were you married into our gang I'd know I could trust you, but seein' as how you're not, I'm goin' to have to say you're being cheeky."

The ruffians on either side of her chuckled deeply, clearly entertained by her boss's humor. She blushed angrily. Damn her for falling for that.

But she'd show him, she'd shut up and stay quiet for the rest of the trip. Angela knew how to give the silent treatment, and she'd use it to full potential.

Determined though she may have been, Lucky Sam didn't test her willpower again. At first she'd been hoping he would so she could prod him with her pettiness, but after about half an hour, when she started to slump back into the depressive thoughts she'd become so accustomed to over the past couple of days, she'd wished he'd interrupt and strike up another conversation, if only for distraction. Pride prevented her from doing it herself, so she sat quietly in the back, staring at the ground, wondering if Forest and Whitaker could tell she was staining the carpet with her quiet tears.

* * *

Jesse was perched atop an outcropping in the Arizona wilds, inspecting the rugged landscape and its inhabitants. An old road cut through the middle of the gorge, with abandoned bars and cafes strewn along the side like a child's toys. Several members of the international force known as Overwatch bumbled around one of the old hangouts, clearly prepping for the most dangerous part of their escort.

The Deadlock Gang had never explicitly said they'd fight Overwatch here. They wouldn't go to the battlefield like soldiers, fire a gun, and have at it. No, this was more like guerilla warfare than anything, but it was obvious on both side this is where the fighting would happen. Firstly, there were no passable routes for the organization to take through this part of town. They'd either have to cut about 100 miles north or rough it in the desert. The first was too far out of the way to get the payload to its destination on time, and the second was probably even more dangerous than cutting through the gorge. At least in this area a man had cover.

That said, it also suited the Deadlock Gang to catch them in this area. All of the cover it offered to Overwatch, it offered to the gang, but better. There were many Arizona natives in the gang, and some knew these roads very, very well. Hell, Jesse'd had more than a few altercations on this stretch of pavement in his life.

A small electronic device in his pocket vibrated.  
He picked it up and answered. "Boss?"

"McCree, you in position?" Lucky Sam wanted to know.

"Sure am, boss."

"How's it lookin'?"  
"Good I'd say. Looks like they've hired two Apaches to help 'em with the terrain, but it should be easy enough to disrupt that."

"Smart of 'em." Lucky Sam remarked. "We'll keep an eye out for 'em on our end. Anything else worth noting?"

"Not at the moment, but I'll keep you informed."

"You should also keep in mind your doctor here has agreed to help patch us up and all that. If you find yourself in need of some help, she'll be in the back, most likely."

Jesse paused. Angela was helping them? Why?

"Right." He confirmed. "I'll keep that in mind."

"Of course you will." And with that, Lucky Sam hung up.

He thought again about Angela. Had Lucky Sam coerced her into it? His gang mates had more or less left her alone since she'd been left for dead by her commander, but Jesse couldn't find any reason for her to help out the gang other than that she'd been forced into it. Just the thought of it made him mighty mad, and he considered he might have to give Lucky Sam a piece of his mind when it was all said and done. Well, at least after he figured out what they'd threatened her with. For the time being though, Jesse had to do what Jesse did best. Fight.

* * *

When actual skirmishes broke out, Jesse most times found himself hidden around the sides. This came down to one particular asset that he had, which, quite honestly, took a lot of people by surprise. As a matter of fact, Jesse had been reluctant to utilize this asset seeing as how he reckoned Overwatch might be able to maim his gem in some way, but when things were all said and done, there was no way Jesse could leave his asset behind. It was as simple as this: Jesse'd darn well be roadkill without his horse.

Real Quiet was a special kind of animal, the kind that seems to just understand you. But there was more than that as far as Jesse was concerned. He'd met plenty a horse he'd bonded with on a deeper level, but Real Quiet was practically a ghost. He was damn silent, quieter than still air. That was what made Real Quiet a notable animal in his mind, especially when he considered how rare sneaky horses even were. It escaped him how one could even exist.

Surely not with your classic variety of horseshoes, they couldn't, but Real Quiet, magnificent as he was, took easily to galloping in boots. No, not those ankle pads racers use, but real boots, specifically tailored for the horse, with a soft sole for silent steps. Moreover, Real Quiet had the touch of a feather; he didn't even need specialty shoes to sneak up on you in a grass field.

Jesse was damn blessed to have him, especially in times such as he found himself in.

As it happened, he was being chased by three women. Normally, that'd be a perfectly fine phenomenon in his mind, but these women had guns. He'd say this for Overwatch, they were a diverse crowd.

The Egyptian commander known as Ana Amari had spotted him as he'd been sneaking up to disrupt her. Jesse McCree made a living out of catching people unawares, and yet this woman had heard him scrape against a couple of rocks, spotted him, and called for reinforcements. In hindsight, he probably shouldn't have been so cocky about it, should have known, but as it happened, she, with lightning fast reactions, shot at him with a sidearm.

It grazed past his ear.

"Gabriel!" She shouted. "Reinforcements!"

"Shit." Jesse mumbled as he turned to run.

"Catch him!" The woman exclaimed. "He's running!"  
Bullets dug into the dirt all around him as he stepped gingerly around the jagged terrain, weaving expertly between devious rocks.

Jesse whistled loudly, signaling to Real Quiet. He kept sprinting, however, knowing the horse was probably still a ways off. Best to have him hide, anyways. If Overwatch expected him to make a grand escape on a horse and had set up a trap for exactly that, then they damn well deserved to catch him.

Looking back, the cowboy noticed two other women had joined Amari in her pursuit. They charged at him, shooting wildly and furiously. As reinforcements arrived, Amari was enabled to hang back and start sniping, which Jesse knew meant bad business for him.

Sharply rounding a corner, Jesse tried to escape the women, and while he did succeed, momentarily at least, he came face to face with a different foe. A tall, hispanic man, who, if sources were to be believed, sometimes functioned on the other side of the law, sort of like a gang member. Gabriel Reyes was not unlike Jesse in that respect, but he doubted their small kinship would save him from getting his brains blown out.

Reyes smirked, raising a gun to Jesse's head.

Well, that's where he made a mistake. The cowboy tumbled under Reyes's arm, throwing a smoke bomb forcefully on the ground and temporarily stunning the man. He took off down a narrow corridor, which, if his directional sense was right, was driving him closer to the main fight.

He whistled again, trying to alert Real Quiet to his change in position.

Shrapnel sprayed past his ear, nicking him slightly. He barely noticed the blood trickle down his neck, or the fatigue beginning to burn his calves, or the heaving in his chest. This was about survival, damn it, and those were small things compared to the threat of death.

Jesse ran and ran, cutting corners close, trying to confuse his chasers, but if the sound of gunfire was any indication, it wasn't working that well. He'd just about made it to dark tunnel, which he knew emptied into what should have been the camp, more or less, of the Deadlock Gang. If they'd been pushed back in the time he'd been distracted, well, god save him.

In the dark tunnel, just barely visible in the shade, stood Real Quiet, his loyal steed ready to rescue him. Jesse panted a sigh of relief, trying to summon a final surge of energy to make it to the animal.

It was then that things took a turn for the worse. Just one shot, sharp and pointed and accurate, clearly from the sniper, cut a clean hole through his lower back. And did it hurt like who knows what.

Jesse tripped in shock, startled by the sudden spark of pain. He hit the ground hard, hands scuffing as he slid across the rough desert floor, elbows bruising from the impact. It amazed him how quickly he was able to get back on his feet and start heading for his horse after a fall like that, but the vigor with which he ran had significantly lessened. Hell, he didn't even run anymore, so much as stumbled toward Real Quiet.

The animal, seeing Jesse struggle, clopped forward to help him out. They met only ten feet outside the entrance to the tunnel, and the cowboy just barely latched himself onto Real Quiet and pulled himself up on the saddle.

"Damn it!" He heard Reyes curse. "He's got a horse! AMARI! SLEEP HIM."

He wanted to laugh, he really did, at how his steed had once again taken the enemies by surprise. But as it was, he was just barely able to keep himself tethered to Real Quiet, and as the horse took off trying to escape the danger, Jesse knew it would be a damn miracle if he managed to hang on through that.

Real Quiet galloped into the tunnel, swift and lithe, trying to make it back to the camp. The shouting of voices started to fade and the gun shots, from the sounds of things, were hitting further and further behind him. Just as Jesse was sure they'd made it out of trouble, a bullet, if that was even what it was, stuck him in the upper arm. It didn't cut through his flesh, it didn't rip through his muscle, it didn't hurt much at all. Rather, it seemed to embed itself like a shot you might get from the doctor. Strange, Jesse thought. Unfortunately for him, that was the last thought he had before everything went dark and he dozed asleep.

* * *

Much to Angela's surprise, the Deadlock Gang did _not_ pay much attention to her whereabouts. She'd known they'd be busy, she'd been in plenty a scuffle in her lifetime for sure, but Angela had just suspected that they'd at least keep an eye on her, you know, for ransom's sake.

They didn't. She could have up and left and gone back to Overwatch anytime she had pleased. If she had known how to get there. As it happened, Angela didn't have much of an idea of how to get over to the other side without going through the middle, and she knew that was a surefire way to get herself killed.

So she stood in the back, attending to the Deadlock Gang's injured, wondering if she might be able to hijack a truck while nobody was looking. It seemed unlikely.

Angela was tending to some nondescript gang member when Lukcy Sam showed his face for the first time all fight.

"Johnson, we need you to go find McCree. He ain't answerin' his comms." The boss didn't so much as even look at Angela.

"Right. I'll get on it now." And the man, with half of his damn arm still unattached, stood up in the middle of surgery.

"Excuse me, sir!" Angela exclaimed in surprise. "Sit down!"

"We ain't got time for this, Miss Angela." The boss scolded.

"It won't take but a second." She glared at him. Using her caduceus staff, she channeled medicine into him, temporarily rendering his arm useful, but Angela knew he'd need a lot of doctoring when he got back from battle. A part of her disliked using the caduceus staff to make people healthy for a couple of hours, only to find them in their original state, if not worse, after the fight, but that's often how things worked.

Lucky Sam raised an eyebrow. "Neat trick. Let's go, Johnson. I'll bet he's somewhere on the west side. I've got Harvey on the right for help, but he ain't as good as you and we both know it."

Their voices dimmed as they walked away from the medical tent, and for a few pleasant minutes, the area in which Angela had taken up temporary residence was quiet. She sat down on a nearby folding lawn chair to relax.

It was then that she heard it, a snort of sorts, that could only have been from an animal.

Instinctively, Angela reached for the staff beside her and looked around vigilantly. She saw nothing.

Then she heard it again. It sounded almost like a neigh. Was it a horse? Why would a horse be out here?

Standing, Angela took inventory of her surroundings. Nothing in front of her, nothing behind, nothing near the trucks to the right, but, wait a second, what was that? Sure enough, on the left, standing at the top of a jagged hill, was a pinto horse. At least, Angela was pretty sure pinto was the appropriate title for a horse with brown and white splotches, but truth be told, she didn't know a hell of a lot about those animals.

Curious, Angela started walking over to the steed.

"Hi there." She cooed. Did one even talk to horses? Was that what she should do?

It snorted at her again, nodding it's head.

"Er, are you lost?" She asked. For a second, Angela considered alerting a gang member to the presence of this steed, but something told her she might be able to use the horse to her advantage.

Of course that was crazy talk. Sure, it was saddled so she knew it was a tame animal, but Angela didn't know the first thing about riding a horse. And now she was thinking about using it to escape? Craziness.

The horse turned around on her, making to leave, but then looked back at her, almost as if to check if she was following.

Angela stared blankly at the animal, perplexed. Curious, she followed it, caduceus staff still in hand, as if she would heal her enemies to death, if, in case, you know, the horse was a trap or something.

The horse clopped down a trail, curling around and in between daunting red rock walls, periodically checking on her to make sure she was still with him. He, at least, Angela assumed the horse was a he but she hadn't bothered to check, led her to the entrance of a cave, and neighed twice once they had reached it. Then he stepped into the cave, and that's where Angela decided she wasn't going to follow the animal anymore. There was no reason to be following mysterious horses into caves. That seemed awful dangerous to her.

The animal, just five feet inside the cave, noticed she hadn't followed, and then neighed again. It looked down at something on the rock floor, then back at her, expectantly. Another neigh.

"Fine, fine, you silly horse." So Angela followed the beast five feet inside the cave and looked at it stubbornly. Five feet inside was fine, she thought, probably still safe, but she would not go any farther!

The horse then looked at something a ways back in the cave, then back to her, but Angela just crossed her arms and shook her head. But that's when she heard it. A groan. And not just any old groan either, a human groan of pain. She knew that sound well.

Frowning at the animal, she stepped toward the sound, then turned her attention towards it.

Sure enough, just barely visible in the dark cave, crouched in a nook of the cave was a wounded man.

"Oh my goodness." Breathed Angela.

"Well help me, why don't you?" A raspy, yet familiar, voice suggested.

"Jesse? Is that you?" She asked tentatively.

"Damn it, woman help me out of this tunnel!" He ordered.

"Alright, alright." She conceded, walking over to him and helping him around her shoulder. It wasn't that easy to maneuver in the dark cave, even less so with a staff in her hand. The whole situaiton resulted in both her and Jesse picking up a few more bruises than they probably needed.

"Be careful!" He groaned as they bumped against a rough rocky wall.

"If you had taken better care of yourself, we wouldn't be in this mess!" She retorted.

Jesse just grumbled in reply.

They wandered out of the cave, and all of a sudden the harsh afternoon light seemed too bright to bear. Angela squinted as she set Jesse against a red rock wall, then looked curiously at the horse, who had stepped outside the cave and was now looking down at her intently. Must be an awful loyal steed.

"Right, now, what's wrong with you?" She asked Jesse as she set her staff aside.

"Been shot." He grunted. "Through the abdomen."

Angela raised an eyebrow. "Anything else?"

"Other than a couple of scrapes, not in particular." He shrugged.

The medic looked back at the cave. "How'd you get in there?"

"Came from the other side. Real Quiet carried me. You gonna patch me up or what?"

"Overwatch still following you?" She wanted to know.

"I have no clue, alright. Passed out for a couple of seconds there, next thing I knew I was dismounted and Real Quiet was gone. Been lyin' there for some time and it's a tricky tunnel to navigate through, so no, I don't reckon they're following me."

A shame, that. Angela had hoped they'd catch up to her and Jesse, and take her back home. It seemed all of her experiences in the American Southwest were full of disappointments.

"Fine." She grumbled, sitting down in front of Jesse, and then pausing to locate the wound. There was a large bloody splotch just above his belt on the left, and she thought that was a probably a good place to start.

Angela sighed and started to pull at his shirt, aiming to get a better look at his injury. It was tucked in the belt pretty well though, and probably pinned against the wall by his back, which made it unreasonably hard for her to access his bullet wound. She was crouched in front of Jesse, balancing on her knees and toes trying to get some kind of look at his wound, to see if the bullet had made it all the way through or not. At the rate she was going, it would be sometime into next week before she'd be able to start healing him.

"Would you mind?" She glared up at him, a blush of frustration cresting over her cheeks.

Jesse looked down at her inquisitively. "What?"

"I need you to remove your shirt." She stated clearly.

The cowboy, with a damn _bullet wound in his abdomen_ , somehow had the wherewithal to smirk. She glowered at him.

"Of course, little lady." He smiled down at her all charming like, unbuckling his belt, pulling on the shirt, and peeling it over his head and off his body.

"How you can be so obnoxious at a time like this, I will never know." She remarked. "Lie down, will you?"

Jesse did as asked without any sass or trouble. Angela scooted around to his side, pulled a slender needle from a thigh holster, and stuck it into his abdomen. She injected the anesthetic into him, waited a few seconds, and then pressed at his wound.

"This hurt?" She wanted to know.

He grunted. "A little, but it's bearable."

"Well that will have to do." She said as she set to examine him. The first point of order was

to figure out if the bullet had lodged itself in his flesh or had passed clean through. She pulled out a magnifying glass with a small flashlight to aid her. It was a peculiar tool, the magnifying glass, and probably alien to most doctors, but Angela didn't have the luxury of hospital regulation machines. She had to make do with handy, portable items.

Angela heard a whinny from behind her.

"Strange horse." She muttered softly.

"Mmm, Real Quiet is a magnificent animal." Angela could hear the smile in his voice.

"If he's named Real Quiet, how come he can't be real quiet right now?"

"He's just concerned is all, wants to make sure you ain't killin' me." The cowboy explained. "You ain't killin' me, right?"

Angela shot the flirtatious cowboy a glare. "I shouldn't have numbed you."

Turning around to reach for the staff, she said. "Sit up."

"Of course, milady." The cowboy mocked.

She turned on him. "You want to get healed or not, cowboy?"

He smiled at her. "Can't I just be happy I've been saved, and by a pretty woman no less?"

Angela set the caduceus staff to his wound, looking down. "No." She muttered, embarrassed by the small twinge of happiness his statement had given her.

They sat in silence for two minutes while her staff did its work. She avoided eye contact the whole time.

Once she was done, she said, "Right, how are you feeling?"

Jesse shrugged. "A lot better than before."

"Think you can get on the horse?"

"I reckon I can." The cowboy set his hands to the ground and tried to stand. Angela stood with him, spotting him and ready to catch him if he fell. But Jesse managed alright and straightened himself without much trouble.

The cowboy walked over to the horse, petting him and thanking him for saving his life. It seemed odd to Angela to do that, she didn't think the horse would understand him. But she didn't pay much mind to that. Instead she glanced at the cave, curious. He'd called it a tunnel, hadn't he?

"You comin'?" Jesse asked.

Angela turned back to him. "Where does that tunnel lead?"

He raised an eyebrow. "You ain't gon' be able to escape that way, darlin'."

"Why?" She wanted to know. "You said that Overwatch chased you from there, didn't you?"

"I did." He affirmed. "They chased me a long way."

She glanced at the tunnel. "So I could get back to Overwatch that way."

When she looked back at Jesse, he was standing right in front of her. It seemed the man was just as quiet as his horse.

"It's dangerous." He tucked his hands in his pockets casually, and yet his facial expression was anything but.

"I don't know if you have noticed this, but staying with the Deadlock Gang is also dangerous."

Jesse shrugged at that. "It's best you not go through that tunnel alone. Easy to get lost, like I said."

Angela looked at him intently. "Will you take me through?"

The cowboy stared at her wordlessly. She'd only ventured it on a whim, with the full expectation that he'd throw her over his shoulder, set her on the horse, and take her back to the gang. Instead, it seemed there was some manner of care for her in the cowboy's heart, which quite shocked her. And, much to chagrin, churned butterflies in her stomach.

"It's dangerous for me to go back that way." He stated.

Right, of course. He'd only just fled from that direction, after all.

"I could cover for you. Or vouch for you." She offered.

Jesse shook his head. "That ain't enough and you know it."

Angela then asked a question she probably shouldn't have.

"What is enough?"

He stepped forward slightly. "You really want to know?"

She held her ground. "I'm not going to have sex with you! And certainly not out here!"

The cowboy chuckled. "That's not what I said, now is it?"

Oh and it was that deep, rich chuckle too. That alone was enough to make Angela blush, never mind the fact that his hand had found hers and raised it to his mouth while he set a small but chaste kiss against her skin, not once breaking eye contact.

"Really, Jesse?" She hissed. "We're in a bit of a situation here, and you're trying to romance me?"

The cowboy chuckled again, the tones of his voice vibrating through her hand that sat against the soft skin of his lips.

"Kiss me." He stated simply.

"What? No!" She exclaimed, voice cracking a bit. "I'm not going to kiss you. I have a boyfriend."

"Really?" He raised an eyebrow. "You're still loyal to that man, after he left you for dead?" Was it her, or was the cowboy starting to get mad? "It wasn't him that saved you, now was it?"

"Yeah, but I saved you back!" She argued. "So we're even!"

"And now you're askin' me to save you again." He countered, dropping her hand. For a second Angela thought she was safe, but he just hooked his arm around her waist to pull her close. She squeaked in response.

"One kiss." He bargained, eyes locked onto hers.

Angela glared up at him furiously. "Fine!"

Placing her hands clinically on his shoulders, she stood on her tippy toes and gave him a quick, chaste peck on the cheek. "There, you have your kiss."

But Jesse didn't let her go. Instead, he cupped her face in his free hand and bent down to her lips. Just when Angela though he would kiss her, and vaguely realized in the back of her mind she wasn't doing anything to stop him, he paused.

His eyes flicked between hers and her lips.

"Just one kiss, Angela." He repeated, warm breath tickling her skin.

"I don't know why you care so much. It seems like a pretty bad deal for you." She whispered.

"Well if you're getting the better side of the bargain," He started. "Better kiss me before I change my mind, don't you think?"

"You're so persistent!" She exclaimed.

But the cowboy just chuckled. And that was enough, that cool, dark rumble of his voice that distracted her from Jack, it was enough for her to bite the bullet, so to speak, it was enough to make her lean forward and peck him on the lips.

* * *

Oh but Jesse weren't gon' stand for no peck, no sir. Sure he'd known all along that's what Miss Swiss was vying for, that's what she'd try, but he wouldn't be much of a man to let a woman like that escape with only giving him a peck. So he kissed her back with a fervour she hadn't shown him, molding his lips to hers and running his tongue along her upper lip.

She squealed in shock, fingers gripping into his shoulders, almost painfully, but not so, and just when Jesse thought she'd peel away, the doctor surprised him by gasping softly and sucking timidly on his upper lip.

He had _not_ been expecting that. His knees even buckled, and he had to grip on to her even more firmly just to retain his balance. Hell, and he'd thought he'd have the upper hand the whole time, but that was kind of hard to accomplish when a beautiful woman was pressed flush against a man's body and sucking on their upper lip. There were other things in that particular situation that were kind of hard as well, but Jesse weren't a shy man. Where most might have pushed Angela away, rubbed the back of their head awkwardly, and held up their end of the deal, the cowboy instead pulled her closer, the hand that had been at her waist dipping lower in the process. It wasn't quite at the point of holding on to her rear side, but he held her low enough to the point that the threat, or promise, depending on how she looked at it, was certainly there.

Surprisingly enough, Angela seemed to like his ministrations, if her reaction of looping her arms around his neck and tilting her head were any indication. She kissed his lips, then the corner of his mouth, then just to the side of the corner of his mouth, her eyes glazed with arousal. The doctor pulled her head back slightly, presumably to place another soft kiss on his cheek, but then, in the process, realization seemed to dawn on her.

Her bright blue eyes locked onto his, and suddenly her face morphed from satisfaction to confusion.

Jesse slid his hand along her jaw, staring down at the woman, knowing she was about to pull away. She opened her mouth to speak, but the cowboy pressed his thumb over her lips.

"Shh." He cooed. "You don't have to feel bad to likin' the way I kiss."

She flushed a deep red at his comment.

Pushing away his hand with one of hers, she said, "I do not feel bad!"

"Good." He shot her a lopsided smirk. "Then I reckon my kissing is having the intended effect."

"I… You… Ugh!" She sputtered helplessly. To add to her vexation, Jesse lowered his hand a touch and gave her backside a firm squeeze.

She squealed. Oh and that gave him more satisfaction than any man could imagine.

Bending close to her face, Jesse whispered. "How about you try saying that again, darlin'? Didn't quite catch it the first time."

She glared at him, and just when she was about to voice her complaints, Jesse kissed her a second time. And lucky for him, too, that he caught her when he did. Her mouth was open, lips pressing against his, hot air exchanged between the two. The cowboy snuck his tongue inside, ghosting along the roof of her mouth. She shuddered in response, vibrating softly against Jesse's entire body, causing him to enter a fight with his own body.

As he kissed her, it became less of a matter of seducing the woman, and more of a desperate search to extract more soft sighs from Angela. He'd played around her tongue, pressed her tight against his body, and even tilted her head upwards just for better leverage. Each movement she made unraveled him more. When she'd responded by wrapping her arms around his neck, he'd just begun to fight his baser instincts, but then she'd continued on to catch his tongue delicately between his teeth and let it slide out slowly and sensually. Damn Jesse if that didn't force him to remove and arm to brace himself against a nearby wall. So of course, he responded in kind, sucking on her lower lip and nibbling on it softly, causing her to sigh in pleasure.

He pulled away slightly, just enough to see the look on her face, and it was only then that Jesse realized he was damn near panting.

Angela, for her part, looked rather flustered as well.

Jesse looked down at her, wondering if he should push his luck a third time or let her come to him. She seemed to be unhinged enough that she might just do it, might just start kissing him of her own accord. The doctor opened her mouth, and for the smallest of seconds, Jesse wondered giddily if she'd start at it again, or maybe if she'd talk dirty to him. But, unfortunately for the cowboy, she did neither of those things.

"Did you hear that?" She asked quiety.

"No, darlin' I didn't." He replied, slightly frustrated.

But the doctor pushed off of him, which marked the end of their incredible makeout session. Jesse was more than a little disappointed.

"I think those are footsteps."

"I'm sure it's just some local animal, or gunfire." He shrugged casually. Couldn't she just go back to kissing him?

"Those are definitely footsteps." She stated, looking towards the tunnel.

It was then that Jesse noticed Real Quiet was A) there, and B) also looking at the tunnel. The horse whinnied quietly.

Annoyed, Jesse stood silent for a minute to listen. Sure enough, there were footsteps. And voices, but not ones that he recognized.

The next thing he knew, Angela was shouting. "REYES! AMARI!"

Oh fuck.

"I'M OVER HERE!" She exclaimed.

Jesse grabbed her arm firmly. "Now what do you think you're doing?" He hissed.

"Getting rescued." She stated simply.

That's when the cowboy realized it was time for him to go. He whistled at Real Quiet and made to get on him and out of there, but the Overwatch soldiers were out of the cave in no time.

"Ziegler!" Amari said in a surprised tone.

"McCree!" Reyes ground out at the same time.

"Get off the horse before I shoot you, McCree." The hispanic ordered. Jesse didn't even need to look to know he had a gun pointed at him, but when he did check, he was right.

"Gabriel!" Squeaked Angela. "Don't shoot him!"

"Don't... what?" He asked, confused.

"He helped save my life!" She explained. "The least you could do is _not_ shoot him."

Reyes grumbled. "I'm not gonna shoot him. That much, at least. Blackwatch has some interest in him, you know."

Angela frowned at the man. "Don't torture him either! That's against the law."

The hispanic sighed, clearly annoyed. "Chill, Ziegler. He's going to be fine. Why don't you run off with Amari? I'm sure Morrison is dying to see you."

Jesse's heart ached at that. He'd forgotten all about the commander. But all he could do was watch as Angela shot Reyes a chilling look and then proceeded to walk away with the Egyptian woman. She even looked at him apologetically as she left, but she left all the same. So the cowboy steeled himself and turned towards Reyes.

"Alright Mr. Blackwatch. What is it you want from me now?"

The cowboy had been expecting a verbal response, but all he received was a smile that could not be described as anything but deadly.

"You'll find out in time, McCree." He said finally. "You'll find out in time."


	4. Courage is Being Scared to Death

_Author's Note: Hey y'all! Sorry for the slow updates! Unfortunately I think that's just par for the course as I go... But as long as y'all don't mind waiting a lil' I promise to update regularly!_

 _Anyways, in other news, I have a new beta y'all! Please give a hand for AutumnRave, who has to deal with (and fix) all of my silly mistakes! There are a lot y'all, I failed spelling in fourth grade, idk how I got into college with a D on my elementary record..._

 _Jokes aside, I hope you enjoy the next installment of Kick Off Your Boots: Courage is Being Scared to Death and Saddling Up Anyways._

 **Chapter 4: Courage is Being Scared to Death**

Drawing imaginary circles on the polished desk beside her, Angela snuck furtive glances at her boyfriend (question mark appended, seeing as how the status of their relationship was still under discussion), transfixed by the handsome good looks she'd missed for the better part of a week, but also trying to steel herself to deal with the man. As it happened, attractiveness made for an awful good negotiator.

"They were honestly going to torture me, Jack." She said quietly. Did he really not believe her? "Jesse saved my life, you know."

" _Jesse_ is a member of the Deadlock Gang." The commander stated firmly. "In all likelihood, the gang had him appear sympathetic to you so they could get you on their side. He was just playing you this whole time."

She didn't want to believe that. The cowboy had seemed so earnest, so genuine… There was no way that kiss was fake! Angela opened her mouth to say as much, but upon realizing what a mistake that would have been, shut it immediately.

Jack walked around the desk, and stood before her, tall and strong. "They're evil men, Ange. It's their job to manipulate you and hurt you."

Looking up at him, she wondered about his statement. "They didn't seem evil, Jack. They seemed real."

He sighed, looking down at her apologetically. "I know… Telling you the truth probably doesn't help you feel better anyways. I guess you just need some time to process what happened out there."

She did need time. Everything had been a blur, swirling around her like a mad mess. Hell, she didn't even know how she felt at that precise moment. Was she even mad at Jack still?

Jack gently took her hands in his. "You had a rough time, didn't you, Ange?"

She had, hadn't she? It was bad, she'd cried so much, no thanks to him… But now here he was, comforting her. Angela looked up at his soft eyes with her own teary orbs.

"I'm sorry." He whispered before pulling her comfortingly into his arms. "I shouldn't have risked your life, even if it seemed to me that you'd make it out ok."

Angela could only cry quietly in response. There were so many emotions puzzling through her head she could hardly identify them herself, much less vocalize them to her boyfriend (no question mark).

"I shouldn't have taken the risk. You're too precious to lose, you know that, right?"

They were swaying romantically now, his embrace comforting and consoling in every way she needed, his words soothing every sore point she had. Angela had been so adamant about ending her relationship before she stepped foot into his office, but now…

It was all a misunderstanding, right? Perhaps she'd overreacted back in the Deadlock Gang's warehouse.

She nodded weakly in response.

"I know…" He sighed. "I know it's unreasonable to expect you to come back to me after what has transpired between us, but that doesn't mean I don't hope you will."

"I was so scared, Jack." She sobbed. "I wanted you to save me."

"Shh, shh." He rubbed her back and set his chin to her head, encompassing her in a sphere of welcome protection. "I'm here now. And I'll never let you go again, ever, do you hear me? Ever."

Angela laughed despite her wet eyes. "Ever? You'll never get any work…" Another quick sob, "done if you don't let me go."

"So be it." He said in a declarative manner that made him seem all the more the hero. "This scared you the last time I said it, but, you should know this, Angela. I love you."

She squeezed him tight. "I love you, too."

It came out more as a "I wuh wuh wuh" than anything, but he knew what she meant. And now she really meant it, didn't she? Back in his arms, after a life and death scenario… She'd missed him so damn much. It seemed her whole issue controlling herself around Jesse was just a manifestation of her longing for Jack.

That is what it was, wasn't it?

Regardless, those were thoughts that no longer applied. Jesse was out of the picture, she was back in safety, and clearly, _clearly_ , Jack was still in love with her. She'd been so silly, crying for two days over nothing.

Well, if she learned anything, she learned how hard it was to lose someone you loved.

An obnoxious knock on the door interrupted their tender moment.

"Morrison. Need to speak to you." It was Reyes, whom Angela really didn't much care for.

"Later, Reyes. I'm busy at the moment." The commander grumbled, much to the medic's delight.

"I don't give a shit for your relationship drama." The other man said bluntly. "We have business to take care of."

Angela felt Jack groan, then extract himself from the embrace. He tenderly tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and said, "I'm sorry, Ange. Looks like he needs help. We'll get dinner tonight, just you and me. Sound good?"

She smiled sweetly up at his pure blue eyes, and then, without a lick of shame, walked past Reyes with her tear stained face held high. Who cared if the leader of Blackwatch thought they had relationship issues, or thought she was a wishy washy woman, Angela had her man back and that was that.

* * *

When Jesse had sacrificed his IOU to save little Miss Swiss, he'd never imagined that action would land _his_ ass in the torture chair.

Ok, so that might be a little dramatic to assert, that if he hadn't saved Angela she wouldn't have gotten him captured (Jesse sure as hell knew he was bound to have been got one of these days), and that the chair he was in was even for torturing. Interrogation chair might have been a better word for it, but there was no mistaking the dried up splotch of blood on the floor. The clinical room seemed spotless with the exception of that spec of blood, and Jesse idly wondered if they'd left it there on purpose.

"McCree, is it?" The man known as Gabriel Reyes looked down at him inquisitively.

"Yessir." He smiled in return. There weren't no harm in being friendly.

"Wipe that fucking smirk off your face." The Overwatch soldier commanded while two lackeys of his leaned against the wall, snickering. "We're not here for fun."

Apparently there _was_ harm in it.

"Here's the deal, McCree." Reyes started. "Overwatch, more specifically, a division of Overwatch known as Blackwatch, has an interest in you. Now, we're willing to forgo your would-be prison sentence if you sign up to join us."

"Well, I reckon that's a mighty easy decision to make." He replied. "I accept."

Reyes snorted sardonically. "We aren't done yet. In order for us to trust you, we're going to be needing some information about the Deadlock Gang, are we clear?"

"Let me get this straight." Jesse cocked his head to the side. "You want me to forsake my gang to prove I'm a loyal, straight-shootin' feller?"

"About right." The soldier replied with a straight face.

"Well, no can do, good sir. I ain't in the business of tellin' on my men."

"They aren't your men anymore, McCree." Reyes raised an eyebrow. "You know if you don't volunteer the information we have to get it out of you somehow, right?"

"Torture me, eh?" So he was right, about the chair being a torture chair and all. "How you expect me to be loyal to Overwatch after I been beaten and tortured?"

"I don't fucking care about your loyalty, McCree." Reyes retorted. "Look, Blackwatch has an agenda and we want two things from you: information about the Deadlock Gang and your aim. I don't give a shit if the reason you stick around is for the sole purpose of killing me, so long as it keeps you working for Overwatch. You're a damn idiot if you think we're not going to put tracking devices on you, I'll say that much."

Jesse made to fold his arms, but that proved kind of difficult seeing as how his hands were cuffed behind a chair. So he mostly just flexed his biceps instead. "Do your worst, Reyes."

"Fine." The soldier smiled. It weren't a nice one neither. "I will."

The beating wasn't that bad, in the grand scheme of things. Jesse was one kick shy of sure that he had a broken rib bone, as well as a broken nose and a couple of missing teeth. There was no mistaking that he was hurt and in pain, but considering some of the stories he'd heard, what he'd suffered was largely reparable.

Reyes stepped away from the prone cowboy, sitting down at the table with an exaggerated sigh. "Get up."

A part of Jesse wanted to resist, to be insubordinate, but was it really losing another tooth over?

With not an insignificant amount of pain, Jesse stood, slowly, and glared at the soldier.

"Sit."

And so he did.

Jesse collapsed in the chair facing Reyes, knowing full well what was about to follow.

"You ready to talk now?" Reyes raised an eyebrow at him, small smirk playing at his lips. The man liked to pretend to be apathetic, but it was clear that if there was one thing this soldier liked, it was causing people pain. More specifically, at that particular point in time, causing Jesse pain.

His question proved tough for Jesse. Talk or be tortured? He knew he was being tortured with restraint, Reyes still hoped to get some use out of him, after all. Perhaps he could endure long enough to make the soldier frustrated enough and give up.

"Not in particular." Jesse grunted in response.

Reyes sighed. "Are you a masochist or what?"

"I ain't," He breathed heavily, just trying to keep up with all the pain he was experiencing. "No masochist."

"Right, well, Jesse I didn't want to have to start really hurting you until I had confirmation that we could fix you up after, but here's the deal. Blackwatch cares more about your information than your help, you follow?"

Bluffing. Jesse was sure of it.

"So we're going to have to step the interrogation up a notch." Reyes snapped at his two assistants, whom the cowboy had almost entirely forgot about. There was no denying Reyes took an active role in the torture of one Jesse McCree, but even he could not accomplish so much in so short an amount of time.

One of the brutes came up to him, grabbed a hold of his arm, and with leather straps secured it to the table. The other slid a butcher knife over to Reyes.

Jesse did _not_ like where this was headed.

"Last chance cowboy." The soldier say as he raised the cleaver, positioning it just over the tips of his fingers.

This was going to hurt. Damn it was going to hurt. He just had to brace himself, Jesse'd experienced much pain in his lifetime, and this was going to be no different. But a part of him wondered, deep down, if he would end up sacrificing his life for the Deadlock Gang? They were important, sure, but what if there was no stopping Reyes? Beyond that, was having his fingers chopped like carrots even worth saving the likes of Lucky Sam? Sure, the boss was generally a good guy, but… For the price of his flesh?

A knock on the door followed by a head popping in interrupted the tense moment.

"Reyes, the medic is here."

The soldier, much to Jesse's delight, set the butcher knife down. "Oh? Excellent. Have her wait in the lobby."

Her?

Was the medic Angela?

The intruder left just as swiftly as he had came, and, if the look on Reye's face was any indication, things had just gotten a hell of a lot worse for Jesse, but he didn't immediately know why.

"You know, McCree, I'm surprised you haven't asked why a noble organization such as Overwatch has approved methods such as torture." Why the sudden change of conversation?

"I assumed you were working behind your superior's backs." Jesse replied simply.

"No, no. I'd never do that." Reyes smiled. "I got approval to torture you, actually. From the big man downtown himself, Jack Morrison."

Oh, _that_ bastard.

"Well, to be accurate, Morrison said I could 'rough you up a bit', but what he doesn't know won't hurt him, eh, Jesse?"

The cowboy looked at him scrutinizingly. "What're you insinuating?"

"All I'm saying is that to make sure you don't seem too worse for wear when you _do_ go back to Overwatch and Morrison _does_ see you, we got one of our medics to come all the way over here to our base in Russia and keep you 'patched up', as it were." Reyes then leaned forward, and in a near whisper, asked, "You wouldn't happen to be acquainted with Angela Ziegler, would you?"

If that didn't drain the blood from Jesse's face, nothing would.

"Word is she and Morrison have already gotten back together." He added nonchalantly.

Reyes was playing him, and he knew it. Chances were Angela was nowhere nearby.

"I know she might have seemed interested in you back in Arizona, but the truth is, whatever it was she felt for you is going to crumple when she sees you here, beaten and useless."

Jesse didn't want to admit how much those words stung him. He frowned at the table, trying to suppress his emotions. Angela, back with her bastard of a boyfriend? Taking pity on him? Worrying about his wounds just to turn around and tuck into some other man's bed when nighttime came? He couldn't stand it.

"You want to talk now?" Reaper asked.

"No." He replied out of sheer stubbornness.

The soldier laughed. "Right. Change of plan boys. Let's tie him down."

Jesse knew he was in for something bad, but not in a million years could he have imagined the excruciating pain and terror he experienced as he was tied down to a board, had a cloth wrap over his face, and was subjected to having water poured into his mouth and nose. It took an hour and twenty minutes before Jesse finally drowned.

* * *

Waiting in an unfurnished, clinical room in the middle of a sparsely populated base in rural Russia, Angela knew something bad was going down just a few rooms away. She'd been called to service by one of the few Blackwatch members she actually respected, Genji Shimada, but he'd offered no information on the nature of he summons. Simply put, the cryptic ninja had said, "Reyes requests your help".

Well, Gabriel Reyes had only "requested her help" twice in the past, and neither for very good reasons. The first time, he'd gotten into a fist fight with Jack and needed help with a black eye and broken rib. That wasn't too bad, especially considering that the second time he'd summoned her, it had been to heal a prisoner, who, in hindsight, had obviously been tortured.

Angela, of course, had reported the incident to Jack immediately. He'd tried to take action against Reyes, but without concrete evidence, was left with only a sour taste on his tongue. It was no secret that the commander of Blackwatch and the commander of Overwatch rarely got along, and their differences on the subject of torture was just another rift between the two. For her part, Angela tended to side with Jack on the subject matter.

Leastways, Angela was almost positive that the reason she had been ordered halfway around the globe to Russia, where torture technically wasn't "legal" but was sure as hell a lot easier to get away with, probably meant she'd have to patch up some troubled soul. This time, though, she'd learn from her mistakes. She'd get proof.

"Reyes needs you now." One of his assistants told her plainly, before escorting her to the torture room.

She followed dutifully, phone unlocked and camera ready in her pocket, accessible at a moment's notice.

When she entered the torture chamber though, she was wholly and entirely caught off guard by what she saw. The two guards, Reyes with his sleeves rolled up, even the blood spatter and what she was pretty sure was a tooth discarded on the ground didn't bother her. At least, not in comparison to the other sight in the room.

At first glance, it seemed relatively harmless. Just a man, clearly a little roughed up, strapped to a plank of horizontal wood and definitely unconscious. But she'd be lying if she said that was just any other man. No, that man was Jesse McCree.

Letting out a small, involuntary yelp of surprise, Angela rushed over to his side and pressed her ear to his chest to see if his heart was still beating and his lungs were still breathing. But as she pressed her head to his shirt, she noticed one thing. The fabric was damp.

What?

But she had little time to worry about that. Jesse's blood was still pumping, thank goodness, but he'd stopped breathing altogether.

"What have you done?!" She yelled breathlessly at Reyes before prying Jesse's lips open, pinching his nose, and pressing her open mouth to his, breathing into him.

She gave him two breaths, then thirty chest compressions, trying to keep the life within him.

Another two breaths, and another thirty chest compressions. Breathe damnit! Two breaths, thirty chest compressions. Two breaths, thirty chest compressions. She repeated the motions seven times until, by some manner of luck, Jesse coughed up water and inhaled sharply.

Angela watched him anxiously for another minute until it was clear the cowboy was capable of breathing on his own again.

"Alright, Miss Ziegler, thank you for your time, I think we are done here." Reyes said in a voice that she knew meant he was smirking. She'd played right into his hands. But how?

"I think not, Gabriel!" Angela exclaimed, examining Jesse, bruised and battered and wet. She realized now the dampness and unconsciousness was probably from waterboarding. "It's pretty clear to me you've been torturing him, and, as you very well know, I won't stand for torture!"

"We haven't been torturing him." Reyes said simply.

Turning on him, Angela shot the soldier a fierce glare. "You most certainly have. I'll see that you pay for your crimes!"

"Hah. I doubt that." He laughed sardonically.

"You brought this man to near death, only to have him brought back to life for, what, more torture? How do you think it feels, Gabriel, to experience an immense wealth of pain, come to terms with the fact that you are _going to die_ , only to be resurrected, having to face life, and _pain_ , all over again?"

"Bad, I guess." He shrugged apathetically. "Look, if I ever need to be resurrected, you'll be the first I call. In the meantime, though, I have unfinished business with McCree."

"I'm reporting you to Jack." She asserted before remembering her phone, taking it out, and snapping pictures of Jesse for proof.

"What are you doing?" Jesse whimpered weakly.

"My thoughts precisely. Have you gone mad, Ziegler?" Reyes's voice boomed in the small, unfurnished room.

"I'm getting my proof!" Angela replied.

"Jack already cleared me for torture."

He _what?_

Angela whipped around to face Reyes, staring at him with wide eyes.

"Well, he said I could rough him up a bit." The commander of Blackwatch amended.

"THIS IS NOT ROUGHING HIM UP A BIT, YOU SADISTIC MONSTER." She screamed. "I'LL SEE YOU IN JAIL FOR YOUR CRIMES."

Reyes laughed at her outburst. "Yeah right. You could get me for assault and battery, at _best_."

"You're delusional if you think I won't try!" She yelled back. "Now get out of here and call an ambulance!"

"No, Ziegler, it's _you_ that needs to leave." He said ominously, his lackeys stepping forward. That was _not_ a good sign.

"You can't lay a hand on me." She hissed. "Jack will have your hide faster than you can confess to the crime."

Reyes spat on the ground. "Your insolent boyfriend can suck my dick for all I care."

"For all you care won't save you from being dishonorably discharged and having your ass thrown in jail." She countered.

Reyes looked like he was trying to kill her with his glare. It was a scary glare, to be sure, but Angela was not about to back down.

"Get out." She said firmly, pointing at the exit with her index finger.

Sighing, he looked at his assistants. "Looks like we're done here boys. I guess I underestimated your baser feelings for the cowboy. Had I known, I would have requested a more dispassionate medic."

"Damn right you should have requested someone else, you arrogant pissant!" She called at him as he walked out the door.

But the soldier just left, seemingly unmoved by her words of prosecution.

And, truth be told, Angela knew deep down that it would be hard to charge him with torture. Nevermind that he'd done it in Russia of all places, he'd waterboarded Jesse, and that was tricky to prove at best.

Looking down at Jesse, beaten and bruised and still strapped to the plank, Angela wanted very badly to hurt Reyes. How could he do such a thing? To another human being? And yet, she knew the exact same characteristic of hers fueling this rage was the same reason she could never bring herself to harm Reyes, no matter how mad she was. Angela didn't have it in her to willingly cause people harm, and while most of the time that proved to be a blessing, when it came to exacting revenge it was more of a curse.

Angela only realized she had started to cry when a tear dripped on her hand as she was cutting off the straps that restrained Jesse with a Swiss Army Knife. She was startled when a pruned finger wiped away a tear from her cheek gently.

"How come," The cowboy started in a hoarse voice. "I'm the one that's been tortured but you're the one that's crying?"

She looked at him with sad, glossy eyes. "Why aren't you crying, Jesse?"

"Guess I cried enough before you showed up." He replied solemnly.

Tears started to well in her eyes following that comment.

"I'm glad you did, though." He added. "Show up, that is."

"I can't believe he did this to you." She murmured, wiping his damp strands of hair away from his face.

"You care for me that much?" He asked, tentatively. At first, she had wondered if Jesse was being the Jesse she had come to know in the American Southwest, flirtatious and playful even in the most serious of situations. But there was something about the inflection of his voice, something she couldn't quite put a finger on, that told her he was genuinely asking a question.

"Yes." She replied sincerely. "I do, Jesse."

It was hard to see, what with the water and already prominent discoloration in his face, but she saw it all the same. A tear, then followed by another, rumoring of just how much pain the man had endured.

"I was so scared, Angela." He confessed, voice shaking. "I was sure I would die in this room."

She stroked his face tenderly, hoping to comfort him in his time of need. "Jesse, you're a hero." He looked up at her with an emotion she couldn't quite identify, but whatever it was, it made her smile. "Heroes never die."


	5. Home Is Where You Hang Your Hat

_Author's Note: Sorry for the big delay guys! It's been a really, really rough summer for me. My dog passed away a couple of weeks ago which really stunted the progress for this chapter. Work has been a bitch too..._

 _Anyway, I'm headed back to school next week and I wanted to make sure I got this chapter out to you all before I get busy with moving in and such. I predict that sometime in early September I can have the next chapter out, once I'm settled and back in the grove of things. Also, a forewarning, this chapter was not beta'd on account of trying to get it out and readable before I move. I may have it updated later, with a few grammar fixes and such._

 _Hope you guys enjoy chapter 5 (is it 5 now? I think it's 5...), and I'll see y'all again in September!_

 _P.S. Also, thanks a ton for the reviews, favorites, and follows guys! It really motivates me to write, even through tough times, and believe me, I wanna see this finished just as much as y'all. So thanks, it means a lot to us hobby writers. :)_

* * *

 **Chapter Five: Home Is Where You Hang Your Hat**

As far as Jesse could tell, Jack Morrison, commander of Overwatch and also boyfriend to one lovely, heart of gold, Angela Ziegler, was _not_ a very amiable fellow. He had classic 50s America good looks, tall, statuesque, with bright blue eyes and sun yellow hair. The man was attractive, Jesse's dislike for him be damned, but beyond his friendly seeming exterior, Jack Morrison seemed a stone cold bastard.

"You'll be working for Blackwatch, McCree." Morrison stated blankly from behind his desk. "It's a subdivision of Overwatch lead by Gabriel Reyes, however more covert in nature."

Jesse stared at him, eyes wide in shock. "Lead by Gabriel Reyes?"

Morrison regarded him coldly. "Do you have hearing problems, McCree?"

"No, sir." The cowboy folded his arms. He didn't much like attitudes like that. "I do not. That don't mean I ain't surprised you're assigning me to Reyes considering our… past."

The blonde showed little change in emotion. "Reyes has been reprimanded for his actions, and understands the error of his ways."

"He _waterboarded_ me." Jesse explained plainly. "I can't work with him!"

Sighing, the soldier crossed his arms. "I have _a lot_ of issues with Reyes, McCree, I'll be the first to admit it. We don't get along on much. That said, I still need to work with the man. Let me explain the politics to you, maybe it'll make more sense."

"Go on." The cowboy gestured with his hand, but highly doubted the blonde would say anything to sway his opinion.

"Firstly, you're new and from a criminal organization. Just saving you from jail time is tough enough, but to put a criminal in the main Overwatch branch is even more taboo. We knew from the moment we took you captive you'd have to work for Blackwatch or go to jail, there's really no other choice.

"After Reyes tortured you, however, I did consider giving you a new identity and such, and having you train with Overwatch for a bit so we could learn to trust you, then maybe having you work for the main branch. Reyes, however, has shown great interest in your skills, and personally requested you be on Blackwatch. _After_ you were tortured. I don't know what he wants, McCree, but I need him to cooperate, and I won't get that if I turn around and keep you for myself. I can offer you jail time, if you prefer that instead."

Morrison said the last sentence with perfect sincerity, leaving Jesse nearly dumbfounded. Reyes wanted _him_? _Why_?

"So that's it then? Work for a sadistic fuck or get sent to jail?" The cowboy questioned.

"McCree, you worked for the Deadlock Gang. If I remember correctly, your _boss_ threatened to torture _my girlfriend_. Now, is Reyes really that much worse?"

As much as Jesse hated to admit it, Morrison had a point there. Of course, Lucky Sam had always been more matter-of-fact about who he decided to torture, and why, but that didn't mean Jesse hadn't worked for sadistic fucks in the past. What really made the difference here was that Reyes had been sadistic with _him_ and he'd never really been on the receiving end before.

Maybe he deserved it.

"Fine." The cowboy grumbled. "I'll work for Reyes."

"Good, I'm glad to hear it." Morrison tapped at a tablet at his desk. "I'm going to see who's available to give you a tour in the meantime, show you your rooms and such. We really need an office manager, you know."

Jesse chuckled. "Yeah, so did we, in the Deadlock Gang. No one wanted to do the secretarial work. Some poor wife always ended up with the job."

"As much as I hate to say it, it's often the women here that get stuck with it too." The blonde commented. He paused a moment, then regarded the tablet pensively. For about a whole minute, the man seemed to battle internally with a decision, then finally shook his head and said, "Angela's free. If you wait outside, I'll send her over to fetch you."  
Jesse was loath to say his heart pounded a little faster than it had before. "Of course, Commander."

As the cowboy was leaving, Morrison said, "If you've got any other questions, don't be afraid to come back and ask them."

"Will do, boss." He hollered back, mind completely elsewhere, focused on a different blonde, with different, softer blue eyes.

* * *

"How are you fairing, Jesse? My nurses tell me you have made a full recovery." The angelic doctor asked as she approached him in the lobby.

He stood, and tipped his hat to her. "Just fine, Miss Angela. All thanks to you, of course."

How long had it been since he'd seen her? She'd checked up on him once or twice since she'd come to his rescue, but this was the first time he'd really have her to himself. To say that he had a lot of questions for her, a lot of things he wanted to talk to her about, would have been an understatement.

"Oh, it was no problem at all. Just doing my duty." She turned towards an east facing hallway, strategically covering a blush he thought he saw. "Shall we get going then?"

"Of course." He replied in a cocky manner, hooking his thumbs in his belt loops and sauntering off after her. Blushing, huh? There was hope for him yet.

Even _if_ there wasn't any, Jesse was determined to romance her back into his arms or die

trying. That she seemed oblivious to the fact only made seducing her more exhilarating.

"We're headed towards the residential wing." She explained, talking over her shoulder. "Your quarters are in between Genji's and Reinhardt's. Have you met either Genji or Reinhardt?"

"Can't say that I have." He admitted. This was his first day out of the hospital wing. The whole week prior he'd dreamed about Angela coming to his aid and tending to him like a dutiful, perhaps slightly pornographic at times, nurse. Funny how even though he lived in her hospital for a whole week, he barely even saw her, much less other agents.

"Hm, well I suspect you'll meet them soon. Genji, at the very least, is on Blackwatch with you."

"Is he now?" Jesse asked, although he wasn't the least bit interested. Instead, he was trying to remember how her legs had looked when they hadn't been covered by a long silk cloth.

"Indeed." She commented, before stopping in front of a bleak looking door, pulling a card key from her pocket, and opening it. "This is you, Jesse."

He looked inside and found pretty standard military grade stuff.

"Your key, and ID." She handed the card over to him. "Careful not to lose this, it's your way of getting around the base."

"It open more than just this door then?" He wondered.

"Yeah, it'll also grant you access to training rooms and the cafeteria. Most places, actually require this card, so keep it safe." She switched her attention from him back to his room. "I had Catherine put your health monitoring kit in there, too." She shot him a severe look. "You _must_ wear it at night, Jesse. We'll know if you don't."

Oh he was very familiar with that health monitoring kit, he was. It was a bulky device that would attach to his arm and monitor vitals, making it very difficult to sleep in a comfortable position, which further aggravated a recent bout of insomnia he'd developed. As healthcare technologies went, the health monitoring kit had to be his least favorite.

"What'cha gonna do if I don't?" He asked, eyebrow cocked.

Angela crossed her arms. "I can't believe you, Jesse, it's like the flirtation button is never turned off."

"Oh you can turn the flirtation button off."

"Oh yeah? And how's that?" She asked, very skeptically.

Jesse, instead of responding vocally, just shot her a suggestive glance. After a few seconds had passed, she seemed to understand his implication.

"I swear!" She exclaimed, before heading off down the hallway.

"Don't deny you aren't interested, darlin'." He called after her.

Angela scoffed loudly. "You are so full of yourself!"

"Hmm, I wouldn't say I'm full of myself…" He scratched his chin as he trailed behind there. "Though I reckon I am, as the saying goes, young and dumb and full of cum."

The doctor didn't respond, but he could see the blush tinting the back of her neck and ears. That she didn't say anything until they reached their next destination further convinced him that she was thoroughly riled up. And boy did that satisfy him.

He vaguely wondered in that time when would be most appropriate to start asking her the tough questions. It was easy enough for her to thwart his simple flirtations, but a more direct question… How would she respond to that?  
Jesse needed to exercise patience, however. In the middle of a base tour was not the right time for such things.

"This is the mess hall." She pointed at two double doors. "Kitchen staff works all hours, but best you come during mealtime for more options, and fresher food."  
"Next we're headed to the-" Angela was cut off by an overhead voice comm.

"All agents, please report to the main briefing room." Morrison commanded in a surrounding, electronic voice. "I repeat, all agents, please report to the main briefing room."

Angela shot Jesse a concerned look before heading off back towards the lobby and gesturing for him to follow.

He did so without question.

* * *

Angela watched Jesse with concern out of the corner of her eye. Jack had told her something about Reyes wanting the cowboy on Blackwatch. Now, she'd known that had been the intention all along, but after the torturing incident, and incident was a really, really soft way of putting it, she rather thought the two weren't best suited to work together.

At the very least, she'd hoped she could have time to convince Jack to put Jesse on another team. But with the latest news, that plan was pretty much out the window.

"We've been ordered not to interfere." Jack said, standing at a podium at the end of the table. Angela sensed a "but" incoming. "However," Close enough. "King's Row is in great distress. So great that it pains me to sit idle."

"If the UN has ordered us out of this conflict, how are we supposed to do anything other than sit idle?" Reinhardt wanted to know. A fair question.

Jack nodded at the german. "For now, we will be content monitoring the situation."

Angela, and probably the rest of Overwatch, understood the implication there was that they would monitor with the intention of intervening when the time came.

"And if things get worse?" Ana asked, touching on that subtle assumption Angela had made.

"We'll get there when we get there." The soldier replied.

The medic frowned. She recognized that as Jack's way of saying, "I'll do what I have to, even if it's illegal."

"For now, though," He continued. "We'll have to lay low and stay in base. There's too much fighting and politics in this for us to do anything else. One wrong move and we have the scrutiny of the world on us. We have been ordered not to interfere, so for now, we will."

"That includes even other missions? Aside from what is happening in King's Row?" Genji wanted to know.

"Yes, it does." Jack replied solemnly. He clearly did not like having to ground all of Overwatch, but somehow felt that he had to. Angela, however, thought the medical team could at least make an appearance at places in peril.

Whatever. She wasn't going to bring it up with Jack, he had enough stress to deal with.

"Any other questions?" The soldier wanted to know, scanning the room with his eyes. He was met with silence.

"Well, in that case, you're dismissed." He saluted the crowd.

The sitting agents quickly dispersed, returning to whatever it was they had been doing before.

Angela turned to Jesse. "How about we get back to your…"

She trailed off as her eyes locked on Reyes's.

"Ziegler, you wouldn't mind if I borrowed McCree for a time? Blackwatch is having a special meeting." His crooked smile disturbed her in a way she couldn't quite describe.

"We're in the middle of his tour." She stared Reyes down, unwilling to let him know exactly how much he unnerved her.

"I'm sure it can wait." He smiled. Evilly, Angela might add.

"No I don't think it-"

"Angela, darlin'." Jesse shot her a heart-stopping smile. Er, well, it would have been heart-stopping, if she were a single woman, but seeing as how Angela was happily involved in a relationship, that smile was just normal. Yup, a totally average smile. "I'll be fine."

"You sure?" She asked, somehow reluctant to let him go.

"Don't you worry your pretty little self about me." Damn, he was charming though. "I'm a big boy, I can take care of myself."

Angela then caught sight of the raised eyebrow Reyes had been shooting her.

"Very well." She replied after clearing her throat. "Come see me at the infirmary before you go to bed tonight. We still have a couple of things to cover."

"Of course, doctor." He smiled again before stalking off after a sinister looking Gabriel Reyes.

Angela sighed heavily and started back onto the hospital wing.

* * *

For as much as Angela loved having connections around the world, people to help her out in times of need, it did stress her out having to call in so many favors. She didn't mind being indebted to people, but she did often feel awkward asking for help. Of course, her friends in King's Row had been more than happy to help out distributing medicine she was going to smuggle into the United Kingdom, but the ordeal stressed her anyway.

And for Angela, stress pooled in between her shoulders.

She pressed her fingers into her upper back, trying to un-knot her muscles, but without much success. Sighing, she stirred her tea, took a quick sip, and returned to organizing-

 _What was that?_ Angela could have sworn she heard something. Twirling around at lightning speed, the doctor scanned her study quickly, but found nothing out of place.

She eyed the bookcases suspiciously, but then determined it must have been a trick of the mind. That happened more often to people who were stressed like she.

Just as she had gotten back into the groove of her work, a deep, masculine voice rang out from behind her.

"Here too see you, doc, like we talked about before."

Yelping in surprise, Angela swiveled around immediately to come face to face with one obnoxious cowboy.

"I swear, Jesse." She sighed heavily. "You're as silent as the grave."

"Wouldn't be much good at sneakin' if I weren't, I reckon." He shrugged, smiling at her lazily.

Standing, Angela gestured for him to follow her out the door. "I can see why Overwatch wants you, then."

"Seemin' like we won't be doin' much for a while." He commented.

"I doubt it." Angela shot Jesse a wary look. "If I know Jack, and I do, we'll be getting involved regardless of what the UN says. Once it gets bad enough, anyway."

"Probably best we do." The cowboy asserted. "Them poor folks need the likes of us."

She nodded in agreement. Jesse was one hundred percent right, but things were never quite that simple. Hell, she knew a thing or two about not simple. The whole situation with Jesse in the first place was the definition of "not simple". She'd be lying if she said her meeting with the cowboy wasn't a source of the tension in her shoulders.

"So how was the meeting with Reyes?" She asked, curious. It wouldn't have surprised her to find out that Reyes was giving Jesse a tough time.

"Not too bad, actually." The cowboy replied. "He's a hard feller, that Reyes. Bit of a sadist, I reckon, but he ain't causin' me much trouble anymore."

"He likes to toy with people, I think." Angela commented absently. "I always feel like he's playing some sort of game."

Jesse followed her as they rounded a corner, entering the residential wing. Hopefully he'd gotten familiar with this area by now.

"He ain't a nice man, I'll say." The cowboy walked casually next to her. "Not the worst I've met, neither."

"Oh?" She asked, raising an eyebrow and peering into Jesse's charming amber eyes.

Er, well, they would have been a charming amber, but remember, Angela was a taken girl so… Nope, not charming amber.

Ordinary brown, she told herself. Ordinary brown.

To add to her discomfort, the cowboy chuckled darkly. "Well, Miss Angela, I don't know if you remember that feller Fourfingers, but he weren't a nice one."

Angela turned her head back to stare at the dull hallway in front of her. That man was too captivating for his own good. After returning to Overwatch she'd just assumed she'd be able to put that incident in Arizona behind her, but with Jesse being here and being so… Attractive, the possibility of forgetting it all was becoming more and more slim.

To make matters worse, Angela was not at all prepared to deal with a seductive cowboy.

"I never suspected any of the men in the Deadlock Gang were nice ones." She responded.

"Is that your way of saying I'm a bad man?" He asked playfully as they pulled up to his door.

"I, er, well…" Damn, he'd got her there. Staring at the ground, she muttered, "You're not a bad man, Jesse."

Angela had hoped he'd drop it, but as he opened the door with his key he continued. "Or perhaps you like bad men?"

Following him inside, she replied, "Of course not! I happen to like perfectly respectable men, thank you very much."

"I'm sure you do." The tone was definitely sarcastic, and if that wasn't bad enough, he threw a wink on it for good measure. "Now what's this you wanted to talk to me about?"

"Your health monitoring kit." She said decisively, and immediately she noticed the look on his face turn sour. "I know you don't like it, Jesse, but it's necessary for you to wear in the nights following your treatment."

He crossed his arms. "I don't see any point in it, my health is just fine."

"Your physical health is." Angela corrected. The cowboy raised an eyebrow. "Would you mind taking a seat? It's a rather delicate subject. I had been hoping to have this conversation after the tour, or after dinner even, but with the recent news and all… Well, I've been kept busy by things."

Reluctantly, the cowboy sat himself on his nondescript twin bed. Angela, for her part, took a seat beside him and folded her hands primly in her lap.

"It is very common for patients to come out of something as traumatizing as what you went through with PTSD, Jesse." Peering up into his eyes, she tried to suss out his reaction. To her, he seemed upset, unnerved, and disappointed. Not a good sign.

"I don't have PTSD, Angela." He stated firmly, though, if the nursing reports were to be believed, the cowboy was probably lying. Back when he'd been hospitalized, her staff had let her in on the secret that a certain Deadlock Gang member did _not_ sleep very well at night.

Touching his knee gently, she tried to soothe him. "It's nothing to be ashamed of, Jesse. Even if it's not PTSD, but if you're having nightmares or not sleeping well… These are things that we can monitor easily with that kit and still give you privacy. They're also things we need to know."

"Do you have to monitor me?" He asked, looking down at her hand. Almost longingly, in fact. But, no, Angela was probably misreading that. "I mean, that contraption is really intrusive."

Sighing, Angela considered his question. "The trouble is that we don't entirely trust you to report your mental status to us. Perhaps if we worked out an arrangement for you to see a psychologist, I might be able to let you sleep without the monitor."

"A shrink?" He did not seem to like her suggestion. "Ain't no self-respecting man gonna see no shrink."

Wow, she had no idea he held such old school sentiments. Most of the people she met nowadays weren't afraid to talk about their therapy or mental treatment.

"It's not the 2010s anymore, Jesse." She patted his knee absently, something she might have done to calm Jack in a dispute, and now she was doing the same with him. "No one will think less of your character if you see a therapist."

"It's more than that, Angela." He shot her an intense look. "I don't much like sharin' my feelings in the first place, and then you ask me to speak to a stranger about the scariest things in my head?"

Angela turned her attention to the standard white linens beneath her legs. She wanted to offer to be a pseudo-therapist for him, but that was… That was definitely inappropriate.

"Well, how do we get past this, then?" She asked, avoiding his eyes.

"I'll talk to you about it. About my nightmares." He stated simply.

The words hung in the air for a good few moments. She'd been scared he'd say that. Scared and hoping, both at the same time.

Now that he had, how should she respond?

No. How _would_ she?

"Alright." She conceded. "And you have to keep a dream diary as well. We'll meet every Tuesday and Thursday nights until I'm satisfied, and then maybe we can make it a weekly or biweekly thing."

"A dream diary?" He question.

"Yes." She asserted. "For you to keep track of your dreams. I don't want you coming to our sessions bullshitting everything." Glaring upwards, she caught hold of his charming amber eyes. "Trust me, Jesse, I'll know if you do."

He smirked lazily. "I'd never lie to you, Angela."

Standing, she replied dryly. "I highly doubt that."

Angela made for the door, but a hand caught her wrist before she could get very far.

"That's it?"

"Yeah, that's all I had to talk about." She looked at him curiously, his eyes somehow shrouded, as if there was something important on his mind. "Why?"

He stood, stepping towards her carefully. Angela held her ground. "Well I thought you'd asked me to see you so we could address what happened back in Arizona."

Her jaw almost dropped. She'd just assumed that he'd put that incident behind him just like she had, especially considering she was back with Jack and… Wait, did he even know about that? Reyes had made an offhanded comment about her relationship, but he'd just been tortured at the time so she couldn't really expect him to have remembered that…

Maybe that's why he'd been so flirtatious? He still thought he had a chance...

Did he?

"Nothing happened back in Arizona." She hoped he'd take her hint and leave the subject matter alone.

He didn't.

"Oh, you and I both know what happened weren't nothin'." His deep voice echoed in the room. "Now I don't know what reasons you had for gettin' back together with that boyfriend of yours but… I reckon you made that decision before you learnt I was still around."

Clearly, Jesse had thought on this subject. Angela, for her part, felt very underprepared.

"It was, but, I…" She trailed off. "It's complicated."  
The cowboy took a tentative step forward. "And by 'it's complicated' I take it you really mean 'I like you but I don't wanna admit it'."

Blood flushed in her cheeks. Was he really calling her out on that? She supposed that he was right, but there was a big difference between being attracted to someone and wanting to give up a perfectly fine relationship for someone she'd only known a couple of weeks.

"This is why you need to see a therapist, Jesse. You can't have sessions with me." She ventured a timid look upwards, only to find him much closer than she had realized and with an intense look painting his face. "There's too much going on between us."  
"So you admit it, then!" He wrapped his arm around her waist in a moment of zeal and pulled her closer. "You do like me."

It was then that Angela should have pushed the cowboy gently away by his shoulders, backed off, and bid him farewell. Were she a good, honest person, that's exactly what she would have done. Were she stubborn, even for the wrong reasons, she'd have done the same as well. Were she truly, _truly_ in love with Jack Morrison, she'd have backed her ass on out of there the moment he started that discussion.

But, looking into those charming amber eyes of his, clouded with uncertainty and passion and hunger, she couldn't find the strength to move.

Jesse took her silence as a good sign, pulling her a touch closer, so their chests just barely met. His free hand slowly cupped her face, and when Angela watched his eyelids flick downwards and his jaw draw closer, she knew she absolutely must stop the cowboy from kissing her.

And she knew she absolutely could not.

His warm breath tickled her face as his lips hovered temptingly above hers.

"You could stop me at any time, you know." He murmured, his skin grazing hers as his mouth moved. "You could push me away, if you wanted to."

"I know." She whispered back, her hands timidly at his shirt, skimming along the upper part of his abs.

Jesse surprised her by kissing the underside of her jaw softly. Another followed, while his hand slowly trailed from her waist to catch her elbow and finally down to her hand, gently holding it and leading her towards him as he stepped backwards.

She followed, knowing every step she took was in of itself a betrayal of Jack. She might as well be stepping on his heart, but she didn't stop.

He sat down, and soon after guided her hips downwards as well until she was sitting across his lap, her nose hovering slightly above his.

Looking down at the cowboy, Angela said idly, "I shouldn't be doing this."

"No you probably shouldn't." The cowboy commented, a hand trailing playfully up her knee and ghosting along her thigh. "Sitting in another man's lap like this. Well, it's the sort of thing that if I found out my woman was doing it, my blood would boil."

She looked at him curiously. It seemed an odd comment to make, almost as if he was encouraging her to leave.

"I should probably-" But just as she made to get up, the weight of the situation finally striking her, she was immediately caught in a pair of strong arms and flipped around so she lay with her back on the bed. The next thing she knew, there was a cowboy hovering not three inches above her.

"I'm gonna kiss you, Angela." He declared, intense eyes locked with hers. "I'd mighty well like it if you returned the favor."

"Return the…?" She trailed off as a pair of lips covered hers. To say that he was rough wouldn't have been quite right, but the kiss certainly was not without passion. His lips ebbed and flowed against hers, nipping and sucking at the pliant flesh, engaging her in a thrilling game. One hand captured her jaw while the other lay flat against her head as a brace for his body. Angela curled her own arms around his neck, pulling him in closer, and she could have sworn on her life that in that moment she felt the cowboy smile.

He kissed the corner of her mouth, then just outside the corner of her mouth, then a little further still, repeating a technique Angela vaguely remembered she'd performed for him in the past. She'd lost track of his hand until his index finger trailed playfully into the divot in her throat, then ghosted along her collar bones and around the hem of her blouse. As his finger followed along the fabric it danced at the flesh of her breast, and while Angela had been unconsciously hoping he'd dip lower, Jesse seemed content with teasing her as his hand completed a half-circle, eventually landing on the collar bone opposite from which he'd started.

Angela gazed at him with lustful eyes, wondering exactly how he'd romance her next.

Of all of the things she could have imagined for his next trick, sitting up and rubbing the back of his neck was not one of them.

"You should go, Angela." He stated simply, hunching forward to balance his elbows on his thighs and fold his hands together.

In following the gesture with her eyes, she noticed a new development in his southern regions that suggested he probably wasn't liking the idea of having her walk away. And yet, Angela knew self-control when she saw it. Too bad _she_ had none.

A part of her wanted to push him, and knew that she could, too. It would have been too easy, just one kiss really. But where would that leave them? And how could she do such a thing to Jack? Hell, what she'd already done was bad enough. Jesse was being mature about this, and she'd better just take that for what it was and be happy he didn't try to romance her more.

Things could have gotten really messy then.

Without a word, Angela sat herself up and slowly walked towards the door. She didn't want to leave too swiftly, in case he changed his mind.

But the cowboy said nothing, and the last that was exchanged between the two was the gentle sound of a door clicking shut.


End file.
